


xmas requestmas: 2017

by ashforge



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Magecraft, Excessive Feelings, F/F, I don't know there is so much here, Incest, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Noble Phantasms Don't Work Like This, Rimming, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Transwoman d'Eon, Vaginal Fingering, oh christ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 22,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashforge/pseuds/ashforge
Summary: requests taken on my tumblr this xmas season.  this is my life now.





	1. [jalter/ritsuka]

“What, don’t you like this?” Jeanne purred.  "This is how they tied me up.“

Something different, Jeanne suggested and when Ritsuka agreed, it ended up like this.  Stripped completely, Ritsuka was bound about her torso with a rough length of rope then suspended.  Based on the cool metal on her spine, the ‘post’ was Jeanne’s wicked flag, probably invariably ruining the floor of her room.  Her toes just barely reached the floor, confusing her body into trying to stand.

Jeanne looked delighted, her golden eyes flashing with a strange lust.  "So helpless,” she cooed, her hands brushing the inside of Ritsuka’s trembling thighs.  "I could burn you to ash, then burn those ashes.“ Her excitement was palpable, and her touch made Ritsuka’s body hot.

"Puh-please,” Ritsuka had already started to get lost.  Her legs ached already, and her entire body was already begging for release.  Her whole world centered around Jeanne’s hands cautiously avoiding her cunt.  "Please, please, Jeanne.“

Her Servant cackled and dug her nails into Ritsuka’s thighs.  She yelped in response, but somehow that only made her want more.  "Do you think begging worked for me?” She asked digging her nails in enough to break the skin.  "They threw things at me, jeered at me,“ she withdrew her fingers, pressing each of her bloody nails into Ritsuka’s lips.  Dutifully, she sucked each clean.  "Then they burned me to death.”

Without the slightest bit of foreplay, Jeanne buried two fingers inside her.  As wet and aching as she was, though, Ritsuka accepted the intrusion heartily.  She whimpered in pleasure, trying in vain to wiggle herself to gain more.  "Aha, and they called me a whore.“ Jeanne nestled her face in the crook of Ritsuka’s neck, her hot breath tickling her.  Her hand slowly drew out and began an excruciatingly slow rhythm.  "We’ll see if you’re worth killing when I’m done.”


	2. [oda nobunaga/okita souji]

The door to the infirmary flew open.  "Souji, let’s have sex!“

Souji was never sure how she did that.  Always manage to find a time and place that was the best possible situation for her.  Coming to the infirmary when Roman wasn’t around to demand sex wasn’t an unusual circumstance, but rather a talent that she had specially honed.  Her whole person glittered with sex appeal and excitement, which Souji honestly could appreciate.

"Eh?  But I’m not feeling well,” Souji argued half-heartedly.  "Besides, we did it like four times earlier.  That’s why I’m in here.  Go ask Master or something.“

Nobunaga folded her arms over her chest, and nodded thoughtfully.  "It’s true, my appetite for sex is insatiable.” She answered, “even in my lifetime.  I had a wife, concubines, retainers, Ranmaru and often partook in prostitutes to satisfy my needs.”

Yeesh, it wasn’t like that was a secret, but to boldly shout it like that was something only Nobunaga could do.  Souji put her cheek in her palm and leaned on the bed.  "And Master told you to fuck off.“ She said, tiredly.

"She almost used a Command Seal,” Nobunaga affirmed.  "She, too, said more than three times in a day is far too much.“

Wait, how many times was that now?  They really needed to bring Nobunaga on more missions.  Violence was often a decent replacement for this problem.  Souji groaned, rolling onto her back.  Well, it wasn’t like she was against it.  Nobunaga was nothing if not a gracious lover.  She had been resting for awhile, and the tuberculosis pains had subsided completely.

"Okay, fine, come on.” Souji answered reluctantly.  "But just once.  Or twice, okay?“

Nobunaga had stripped down to her underwear by the time she finished, leaping into the bed.  "Three times?” She asked, undoing the belt on Souji’s yukata.  "Four?“

"No, no no, absolutely not.” Souji complained.  Nobunaga slid down her body, going tongue first for her cunt.  "Okay,“ Souji replied breathless, "maybe.”


	3. [jeanne/jalter]

Supposedly, Alter’s body was the same as her own but Jeanne didn’t think her body was quite so erotic. Alter had that kind of magnetism that drew your eyes. Her body was luscious, creamy - filled with all the aspects that made even Jeanne think sinfully. She sometimes wondered how the good Lord would percieve her now, craving a woman who could very well be her twin. Jeanne licked her lips, tracing her fingers along Alter’s back.

“You’re disgusting,” Alter sighed, glancing at Jeanne from over her shoulder, “you should see your face.”

Jeanne smiled, unbothered by Alter’s barbs by now. "I can’t imagine the face I’m making is appropriate, I suppose,“ she filled her palms with Alter’s round bottom. "You’re lovely.”

A sigh of contentment escaped Alter’s lips, urging Jeanne’s hands to continue their massage. "I look like you,“ Alter argued, "that’s pretty self-centered.” She didn’t seem particularly bothered though. Jeanne giggled to herself, knowing her Alter’s dishonest habits. Besides - she wasn’t all that wrong. They were, of course, so similar.

Her hands slid from Alter’s cheeks to the inside of her thighs, feeling the slickness that she had urged from her. "Shh, you’re very cute.“ Jeanne praised, running her thumbs against Alter’s lips. "Especially like this. I’m very lucky.” She slid her hands against her center, tracing the slit from entrace to clit. Alter whimpered and rose her hips to meet the touch.

“You’re,” she couldn’t finish speaking without a sigh of pleasure, “a pervert.”

There was no denying it at this point, so Jeanne didn’t. Spreading her juices along her cunt, Jeanne found pleasure in the lewd sound Alter’s pussy made as she touched it. A base part of herself took great joy in satisfying her lover. More than herself in many cases. "But you enjoy this pervert making love to you,“ Jeanne replied leaning down and pressing kisses along the curve of Alter’s ass.

With no better response, Alter grumbled. Perhaps she wanted to argue the terminology, that it was a fucking not love making. Jeanne’s tongue peeked out, tasting Alter’s sweet juice. The both of them knew what this relationship was. Whether or not Alter wanted to admit it. The motion of Jeanne’s tongue pulled moans from Alter’s lips.

"You, you,” Alter lacked the finesse to insult. She always did once Jeanne got her going. Her hands slid beneath her body, grasping her sensitive nipples. Jeanne almost felt back for making her lie on her stomach but - Alter did deserve some punishing sometimes.

Jeanne drew back, chuckling at her lovers predictability. She loved it. Knowing exactly how to make Alter bend. She slid a finger from Alter’s clit to her entrance, teasing it ever so slightly. "Do you want me to do this, darling?“ She asked, knowing the answer.

Alter groaned into the sheets, "yes - !” Of course she did, her Alter loved to be penetrated.


	4. [miyamoto musashi/ritsuka]

“Otsu.”

With her hand on Ritsuka’s shirt, the wrong name somehow left her lips. Her Master glanced over her shoulder with mild confusion. Musashi nearly bit her cheek. It was the most telling slip of the tongue she could do. Calling her Master by that womans name. Her face felt hot. All the thinking she had been doing, the frustration, had been put into clean lines.

“Musashi?” Ritsuka, to her credit, chose to overlook Musashi’s slip up. She was still in good health after their daily missions, so it was the best chance to talk to her. No needing to see Roman first. No needing to see Da Vinci.

Musashi took her hand back, rubbing her now flushed cheek. "Ha - sorry,“ she apologized wistfully. When she thought of women keeping her from obtaining true emptiness, it was Otsu that came to mind. A woman she loved so much. Musashi smiled wryly, she was awfully cruel to her. "I wanted to clear some things up.”

Ritsuka nodded, “about what we talked about last time?”

It was a pain to be the type that fell in love easily. Musashi wanted nothing more than to renounce her worldly desires and obtain the emptiness of a master. She wanted to become nothing, embracing the full circle that she sought in life. Ritsuka’s smile was painful, frustrating. Even if she let go of everything, she couldn’t be nothing if Ritsuka filled her palms. She sighed, releasing the tension from her chest.

“I’m frustrated!” She declared, “and now she haunts me even here!”

Musashi never took a wife or a husband. She devoted her full self to the study of the sword, to the pursuit of emptiness. To battle, and beyond. Otsu who had loved her so purely would be denied to the death. Even if she loved her back. That love would stand in her way, so Musashi discarded it. The air felt heavy in her hands.

After a moment, Ritsuka replied, “That was the girl in the novel, right?” She brushed her hair behind her ear. "Otsu.“

Her male counterpart had a similar problem. Musashi sighed a laugh, "I loved her. Whether or not I wanted to.” To that Ritsuka just nodded.

“So, you love me too?”

Musashi smiled at herself.

To say the least, she did not have experience. Sexually. She didn’t have time for that. Her gropes and touches were blind, hungry, inexperienced. Ritsuka did not have that issue. Even chaste touches left Musashi trembling, weak. Her fingers brushed against the inside of Musashi’s thigh, purposeful and seductive. Her lips were soft, powerful, against her own, controlling the flow as if she were made of water.

The tips of her fingers touched against Musashi’s underclothes. She gasped against Ritsuka, sensitive to any touch. "There,“ she sighed, her fingers trying to find anything to touch on Ritsuka’s body. A mild panic dulled her senses. She was vulnerable. She couldn’t be vulnerable. "Master, it’s…”

Ritsuka hushed her with another light kiss. "Trust me,“ she said softly, the way her fingers rubbed against Musashi left her weak. "You’re safe.”

Another kiss, Musashi relaxed. They were in Chaldea, and no one was after her. Her body grew hotter. Even with the gentlest touches above her panties, Musashi could feel something building up. She was aware of it. She had taken care of herself before. But it was different with someone elses fingers. "Master,“ she was urging this time. Impatient, she wanted to be touched. "Master.”

Ritsuka’s hand slid beneath, and Musashi felt like she was going to boil over. Her fingers were cool, and slid easily against her with how wet Musashi had become. Words were hard. She gave up on them. Sighing and moaning, Musashi clawed at Ritsuka to continue her pace. Anything, anything to keep her going. Tears welled in Musashi’s eyes out of euphoria.

“Master,” she tried. It didn’t come out clearly, and she slurred the sh. Ritsuka replied with a kiss, touching her clit in just the right way. She came, and her emotions tumbled down with it. Each wave of pleasure fed into her growing acceptance. Her thighs trembled.

\- If it was her Master then surely it wasn’t a problem.

Surely, Otsu wouldn’t mind either.


	5. [brynhildr/ritsuka]

That night, like the past week, Brynhildr would enter her room. Regardless of what she constantly said, she couldn’t resist being near Ritsuka. Every time she entered the room, her face was scrambled with emotions. Want, anger, hate, love – Brynhildr never knew what she wanted to feel. What she was allowed to feel. When the door shut, she summoned her spear and dragged its tip against the floor with purposeful steps. Her eyes were clouded, miserable, because she knew, she knew so certainly, that it would be the time she would kill Ritsuka.

“This is the only answer,” she said, as she had said the last seven times. “I warned you, Master.” She’s repeated this so many times that it’s lost meaning. Ritsuka touched her cheeks, unafraid of the weapon that should pierce her heart any second. Even though Brynhildr’s hand didn’t waver, didn’t send tremors into her spear, she is frozen in place. “I love you, so this is the only answer.”

“You can kill me if that’s what you need,” Ritsuka kissed her trembling lips, her hands sliding down Brynhildr’s cheeks and neck. “But you won’t, because I’ve broken your curse.”

Just like every night, she considered those words carefully. Cautiously, she kissed back. Fearfully, as if doing so would make her kill Ritsuka in an instant. But she did it, hesitantly, desperately. Her tongue meets with Ritsuka’s, and she tastes sweet like honeyed mead. Brynhildr wants to be doted on, beloved. She wants to love and love fully. Despite her passion, she kissed like she was in pain. Ritsuka doesn’t shrink away, though.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ritsuka urged, and Brynhildr released her spear. It dissolved into light before it could hit the floor. “Let’s do this again, I’ll show you.”

Ritsuka led her to the bed. She undressed completely, shamelessly, and presented herself naked and defenseless. Brynhildr touched her, traced the length of her trachea and felt the drumming of her heart beneath her gauntlets. She shed those, and did it again. Brynhildr’s skin always felt hot, and Ritsuka arched her back as they slid between her legs. She engaged in his willfully, with someone she loved. Ritsuka did not defend herself.

“I’ve broken your curse,” Ritsuka repeated, hotly. Brynhildr had shed her clothes as well, and joined their bodies. Between a mess of legs, their wet cunts rubbed together. Brynhildr sighed a moan, leaning forward to gain better leverage. Scent of sweat and sex filled the room, and the sounds of their bodies cut it. “But you can try.”

Brynhildr’s hands sank on Ritsuka’s neck. She had to do this every time, but Ritsuka found pleasure in it. Having the life choked from her while being fucked by her Lancer was beginning to be a fetish of hers. She couldn’t get close to climax without it now. Her grip was hard that day, though, and bruises would definitely follow. She could kill her with a single sharp grip – that was the nature of Servants. But Brynhildr sat on the edge of it.

The motion of her hips did not slow. Combined with the growing lack of air, Ritsuka feared she’d come before she had the chance to breathe. “I can’t,” Brynhildr said, as if the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Her grip loosened, and Ritsuka’s sharp breath heralded her orgasm. “Ah,” Brynhildr seemed surprised, and her bucking hastened. “Aha,” she began to giggle, burying her face in Ritsuka’s shoulder as she brought herself to orgasm.

“I couldn’t,” she said, “I won’t. Master – I,” Brynhildr’s voice cracked with her tears. “I love you.”


	6. [medb/ritsuka]

Medb had been embraced by many men. Many, many men. Seldom few women.

The women of her time didn’t interest her, for the most part. Servants, wives, whores. Those were the women she saw. She wasn’t entertained by that. There was no mystique to them, no danger, little violence. When she wanted someone, they were strong and pretty. She wanted warriors. Killers. Violence. Someone who had strangled the life out of someone, to submit fully into her palms and be subjected to her body.

Her Master was soft in the ways she already was. Medb was already a holder of a uniquely beautiful body. Pure and utterly flawless in her creation. So, usually, she wouldn’t give her Master a second glance. But, with little else to look at, she did. Fujimaru Ritsuka. She was human, a modern one. Forged in a pit of uselessness and complacency. Her body wasn’t particularly attractive, but it had a good structure.

She wondered, sometimes, if her life would be different if she sought women. It wasn’t like Medb was unattracted to them. Especially her Master, who’s pale body was a delight to bruise. It wasn’t like she hated the idea. It got her wet, watching Ritsuka tremble and moan after each lash of Medb’s whip. It made her tremble in joy, seeing her Master’s eyes stare back at her as she buried her toes in her lips.

What is love? She had wondered that many, many times. She wondered if it was that unusual tugging feeling she got. Ritsuka’s body, lashed and sweaty, made her want to touch. Inspect. She hadn’t that urge before. Not with the men. Not with the few women that she had. Would the flesh knit back together where her crop had cut? Medb felt uncertain, frustrated. Closed her fingers in her palm, swallowed the unfamiliar urge.

After all, her Master was not unlike her men.

Sure enough, she would return. Descend to her hands and knees as Medb’s command. “That’s right, my boots are dirty, Master,” She leaned into her seat, crossing her leg over her knee to present the boot to Ritsuka’s face. “All this questing you force upon me. Go ahead and clean them.” Gingerly, her Master would take the boot in her hands and lick it. Long, sensuous strokes, from the tip of her toe to the sharp heel. Like she had been bred to be subservient to Medb.

Just watching made her pussy wet. Look at their proud Master. The second Ritsuka’s lapping slowed, Medb brought her crop downwards in a resounding crack. On lucky days, it merely welted. On days like today, Medb delightedly saw a line of broken skin. Her Master staggered only slightly, bringing her eyes up to Medb for confirmation. If only Medb was in the mood for praising. Her Master was such a good slut if she wanted to be.

When her boots were clean, her toes sucked and flawless legs properly worshiped Medb would give her the utmost glory of usage. Her Master was allowed to wear a proper tool – a harness and cod – and be allowed to let her Rider ride. Even though it wasn’t her flesh, Ritsuka’s face as she watched Medb sit on the fat cock provided was beautiful. Hungry, thirsty.

“I bet you want to fuck me, don’t you,” Medb goaded, languidly lifting her body up and down to give Ritsuka full sight of her pussy being filled. Her expression was drunk, animal. Medb rocked hard, licking her lips at the sight. “Why are you being a pussy? Do it,” the tip of her crop tapped Ritsuka’s chin. “Or do I need to find a man to do the job?”

To her surprise, or perhaps not at all with her urging, Ritsuka’s hands took to her hips. Immediately, Medb struck her chest with a wide swing. Blood welled on her Master’s chest, but the hands did not water. Now, Medb was genuinely surprised. With a savage grunt, Ritsuka thrust into her. Ah – ! Now that’s what she was missing. She could think of few men who fucked her quite as senselessly.

Curling her fingers into the sheets, Medb found herself quite satisfied. Whatever it was that they shared, she could comfortably take a break from men for awhile.


	7. [okita souji/ritsuka]

Her head rested on something soft, and instinctually Souji knew it was a lap.  She had been there many times.  The gentle warmth radiated to the back of her head.  Hands combed through her hair.  So gentle, so familiar.  Souji’s eyes opened, blurry.  Her chest hurt.  Her head hurt.  But she was safe – right?  The blue sky was inviting too.  The hand brushed against her forehead, checking her temperature.  Was she hot today?  She usually was.

“Aneue,” Souji greeted, eyes too blurry to see who was above her.  It was Mitsu, wasn’t it?  The gentle hand that comforted her all the way to her death.  Ah, wait.  She died, didn’t she?  Souji blinked the haziness from her eyes.  Mitsu would have followed her husband after she died, not her useless sister.

Ritsuka’s eyes seemed to twinkle looking down on her.  Souji smiled.  Yes, she’d never get that from her sister.  Reaching out, Souji pressed her palm against her Master’s cheek.  “I’m not a burden to you, am I?” She asked with gentle strokes.  Her honored brother never said anything.  It was a privilege to have a famed captain in their home.  But as Souji’s health continued to deteriorate, it must have been a problem.

“No.  I don’t think you were for your sister either,” Ritsuka replied, urging Souji upright so that she could pull her in an embrace.  With Souji’s back on her chest, Ritsuka peppered kisses on her neck.  “Feeling homesick?”

Souji sighed, exposing more of her neck to Ritsuka’s lips.  “Maybe,” with each kiss, a minutiae of mana surged through her body.  The pain began to ebb.  She loved and cursed this demerit.  Her body would eternally be racked by this disease, never improving or failing.  But it could be dulled.  Her Master’s fingers slowly undid her belt, freeing the front of her kimono.  “You’re aggressive today, was my spell that bad?”  She didn’t need an answer, really, the taste of iron was still on her tongue.

Ritsuka buried her face in the crook of Souji’s neck, “maybe I just want you.”  Her word sent pangs of desire through Souji’s body.  Her Master could be so cute, she thought.  Ritsuka’s fingers sank beneath her loincloth, skillfully drawing out Souji’s lust with each draw and pull of her fingers.  As her cunt grew wetter, the transfer became easier through Ritsuka’s fingertips.  Souji wrested against her Master’s body, her teasing becoming all too quickly unbearable.  “Besides, you looked pretty cute calling me ‘big sister.’”  Ritsuka’s breath was hot on her neck.  “I can scarcely believe my Souji is a siscon.”

A blush burned Souji’s face.  It was unfair of Ritsuka to say something like that while she buried her fingers in Souji’s cunt.  It wasn’t Mitsu’s fingers she wanted there, after all.  As if sensing her frustration, Ritsuka laughed and kissed Souji’s neck.  “Don’t worry, Captain,” she squeezed her fingers inside Souji.  The samurai moaned rolling her head back.  Ritsuka always knew the right rhythm to fuck her.  With each pull and push, Souji’s entire body followed.  After bringing Souji to almost sore breaths, Ritsuka filled her to her knuckles.

“I’m sure your sister wouldn’t fuck you as well as I do,” Ritsuka purred.


	8. [osakabehime/miyamoto musashi]

A – and sent!  Mostly engulfed by the kotatsu at the center of the room, Osakabe cackled to herself.  She had spent the better part of the day trolling on internet forums, catfishing hopeless guys and chatting about vintage anime.  So basically, it was a perfect day for her.  All short of spending money on something utterly useless and pigging out on consume flavored chips, but she had just put in for a new figure and chips were just in arms length.

The door to her room opened filling the otherwise dark abyss of her space with sterile florescent light from the hallway.  Osakabe all but hissed in response, ducking beneath the kotatsu further.  “Wha-what happened to knocking?  I could be naked you know!” She complained loudly, covering her head with her arms.

“Knocking is un-Japanese!” Musashi proclaimed flicking the lights on in the room.  “Hime-chan!  I haven’t seen you in three days!”

Ugh.  She had been excited about meeting that Musashi Miyamoto, but now the fun had worn off and it was a chore.  Ever since she got to speaking with that sword obsessed meat head, the Saber started barging in her room when she avoided everyone else for too long.  Wasting your body is the greatest failure of man!  Or something like that, Osakabe tried to curl completely beneath the blankets of the kotatsu to hide.

“Oops, nope come back,” Musashi reached beneath and pulled Osakabe out without a single ounce of shame.  “There you are!  When was the last time you ate a real meal?  I can understand being afraid to bathe when foes are about but you need to eat.  Especially since Master is paying for our food.”

Ugh, her beaming face was tiring.  Osakabe squinted and adjusted her glasses.  “Mash brings bentos every day,” she replied collapsing on the floor after Musashi released her.  “And I bathe, by the way.  That’s a you problem.”

Not to be deterred in the slightest, Musashi brushed Osakabe’s mostly unused futon clear of debris.  “And exercise?”  She urged Assassin over to the bed, her intentions most definitely impure.

Osakabe pouted, “well, that’s why you’re here.”

Musashi had some strange tastes, but saying that out loud would make Osakabe complicit.  She genuinely planned sex in such a way that was exerting.  Making Assassin stand up straight as she was eaten out, stopping when she slouched or slumped, being one.  Doing what was referred to as a ‘69’ forcing Osakabe to remain on top without falling.  But by far, her favorite, was plain boring doggy style.

On her knees and palms, Osakabe trembled.  She had already done everything else Musashi wanted, but it always ended there.  Tired, sweaty and edged to the point of madness, she gladly held herself upright as Musashi’s fingers fucked her senseless.  Even if her arms shook, and her back trembled, the pure pleasure Musashi could work out of her was worth it.  Moaning, drooling on her futon, Osakabe fought the urge to collapse.

“That’s it, Hime-chan,” Musashi’s sultry sweet voice was hard to hear between Assassin’s lurid gasping and whining.  “Do it, baby.”

Her words felt like reinforcements, keeping her body upright.  Just a bit longer.  Just a little harder.  Osakabe rocked back against Musashi’s hand, earning a whistle of appreciation.  Work harder, was what she said probably, but Osakabe couldn’t hear anything other than the throbbing of her heart.  Finally, Musashi’s fingers curled, freeing Osakabe.  She seized and twitched and came, sliding onto the floor.  Limp and doused in sweat and come, she groaned.

“How dare you make me tired in my own home”


	9. [lancer artoria alter/ritsuka]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: rhongomyniad is a phallus

Ritsuka whined, feeling Artoria’s fingers spread her wide.  Her pantyhose was ripped, panties ruined and her body was suspended against the wall in an London alley.  Normally, such exhibitionism would be a problem, but Ritsuka didn’t have the strength to argue with Lancer closely guarding her.  Her cloak shielded Ritsuka on one side and the girth of Llamrei hid her on the other.  The only one who could see her shamelessness was the Altered Artoria.  Her lips and tongue filled Ritsuka’s open mouth, sapping the saliva and mana from her in droves.

“Master,” Artoria whispered against Ritsuka’s lips, “Rhon and I crave more.”

She had Ritsuka pinned effortlessly, from the pressure of her ample breasts to her free hand squeezing her ass.  There was nothing Artoria couldn’t do with that position, but she struggled to remain cordial.  After all, at the junction of her legs Rhongomyniad stood erect, slick with a viscous liquid dripping from it’s head.  Artoria explained that it became like that sometimes, when her body was racked with a need for mana.  As if it remembered some spell that Merlin cast a long time ago.

Ritsuka moaned, eyes dropping to the twisted black shaft.  “W-will you fit?” She asked in a shudder, bouncing her hips on her hand.  It was a necessary precaution, seeing as Ritsuka’s experience was with fingers and tongues.  The length of girth of Rhongomyniad was well beyond anything she had before.  When Artoria didn’t reply, she sank a hand downwards, grasping the cursed spear.  Lancer’s body tensed.

“Don’t,” she said breathlessly.  But Ritsuka’s switch had been flipped.  Oh – so Artoria could feel it?  She pulled along the length, carefully teasing the tip with her fingers.  A weapon of destruction could be used like this then.  Although Artoria’s grip on her didn’t slack in the slightest, a tremor surged through her body.  “Master…”

Rhongomyniad felt neither like flesh nor steel, but was hot to the touch.  The more Ritsuka held it in her hand, the more pleasant the sensation became.  What a cursed thing, she wanted to say, but the pace of Artoria’s fingers in her cunt only increased as she stroked the spear.  “Give,” she struggled to speak drowning in Artoria’s attention.  “Me.”

As if she had spoken the magic words, Artoria clicked her tongue and slowed to a stop.  “Master,” she began, removing her fingers.  “You understand I won’t be able to control myself.” She waited for Ritsuka’s nod then sighed.  This is so much trouble – that’s what it sounded like, but there was a hotness in Artoria’s gold eyes that made Ritsuka shiver.

With care, Lancer began to push Rhongomyniad inside her.  Whatever the fluid was that dribbled from the tip acted like a drug.  Ritsuka was on fire.  Even from just the tip, the feeling was unbearably good.  Being filled with it, she had no control over her vocalizations.  Surely, the people of London must have believed a whore was being fucked in the streets.  Artoria’s face was red, and she stuttered out a sigh of pleasure as Rhongomyniad filled Ritsuka to the hilt.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she were battling herself.  Ritsuka rutted her hips, wrapping her arms around Artoria’s neck.  “Artoria,” Ritsuka purred, “please.”

At first, with hesitance, Artoria’s hips drew back and began with a weak thrust.  Even that much – !  Ritsuka gasped and squeezed.  Something held her back, her body was being restrained from orgasm.  Was it Rhongomyniad creating the best possible situation for transfer?  Now that her hands were free, Artoria grasped her hips.

“Be prepared, Master,” Artoria’s pace began to pick up.  “We will not stop until you are dripping.”


	10. [atalanta/ritsuka]

She had made a Vow of Chastity.  That she would remain a virgin until the oath was broken.  Atalanta intended to do right by it this time, summoned as a Servant and able to protect herself.  She could resist the temptation of the apples, and remain true to what she truly loved.  The Hunt, the Battle – children of the world.  Her Master was a nice enough woman, ever the graceful listener and very supportive.

It was frustrating to fall in love when she had made a new promise to herself.  At the end of the day, she knew that the more strongly she felt, the more likely she would have her oath tested.  After all, when Ritsuka touched her cheeks and ears, she felt so at ease.  When they spoke, she felt safe.  When she declared, she felt validated.  It was frustrating to always become caught in a cycle where she was either forced to give up or desired it on her own.

Ritsuka’s lips brushed against the nape of her neck, and her hand stroked the length of Atalanta’s tail.  Over and over, her hand rose and fell – and unbidden, Atalanta stretched out comfortably.  Her Master was kind, and understanding.  These touches, despite being so sensual, would be the extent of her aggression.  She would gently bite on Atalanta’s ears, smother her jaw and neck with kisses.  Softly cup her breasts through the fabric of her shirt – but never did she act intrusive.

“This is okay?” Ritsuka asked, running her nails along Atalanta’s back.  Her touch left Archer trembling and wanting for more.

“It’s fine,” Atalanta replied, kissing Ritsuka over and over.  There was no crime in it.  No oath was broken.  She could conquer her Master’s lips countless times without betraying herself.  She could leave Ritsuka bruised and bitten, but it would not cause issue.  “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

Sometimes, they were bold.  Pushed boundaries.  Atalanta would undress with flourish.  A strip tease, as they would call it.  Exposing her skin to another woman was not a crime.  She touched her chest, kneeling inches from Ritsuka as she did.  She would excite herself, squeeze her pert nipples and watch as the lust lingered in her Master’s eyes.  “Do not blink, Master,” Atalanta said softly, running her palms to her thighs.

This was the only way they could do it.  Ritsuka would do the same, stripping to her nakedness and exposing herself.  It made Atalanta crave her skin and touch, but she resisted.  Instead, she fueled that with her own hands, sinking between her legs for Ritsuka to see.  The harder her Master watched, the more wet and aroused she became.  The more shameless she felt.  But she didn’t feel dirty.

She wished she could kiss her Master upon her lower lips.  Slick and swollen with desire, rubbed and fucked by her Master’s own hands.  She wished she could do more than masturbate to the sight of her Master’s own self enjoyment.  She could – Atalanta knew.  She could break that oath again.  But not yet.  Not until she couldn’t stand it.

Longingly, she admired Ritsuka’s fingers as they sank inside her.  Atalanta was afraid to do even that with her own body, stimulating her clit as she saw.  She would save it, as she vowed, that none may enter her.  So she rubbed and rutted her hips against her hand.  But she would’ve liked more.  Ritsuka seemed so content with fingering herself.  She wondered how Ritsuka’s fingers would feel deep inside her.  That thought was what made her come so many times.


	11. [lancer artoria alter/nightingale]

“…”  Nightingale stared.  The king leaned forward, tucking her hair behind her ear as she took a bite off the fork Nightingale offered her.  The haze in their minds had cleared for some time, and it was pointless to continue playing this ruse.  A dusting of pink lingered on Artoria’s cheeks, savoring the taste of the Shepherd’s pie that Nightingale had made.  There was a faint fluttering in her chest.  “Do you enjoy it?”

Artoria’s looked up at her face, her gold eyes seeming to draw the light in the room.  “It’s very good,” she answered, and she took her own fork to continue eating.  There was a bizarreness to the scene that neither of them chose to confront.  “The smell isn’t so bad now,” she said between bites.  “I wonder why the disinfectant bothered me before.”

For some reason, Nightingale’s lips twitched in response.  A foreign part of her mind seemed to be content with that knowledge.  That her ‘husband’ was more comfortable with the dinner that she provided.  Her irrational mind, however, grew distrusting of the work she put into cleaning the cutlery and tablecloth.  Her hand felt stiff.  If she didn’t act quickly, Artoria would finish the pie made for just her, and move onto the one Nightingale prepared for herself (and Mordred, if she was willing).  She was hungry, after all the work she had done on keeping everything clean while cooking.

“…” Her lips tightened, and she wondered why she even bothered with this.  They were under no spell to maintain this situation.  She could be within her own space, where it was sterile and safe, taking care of her allies ailments.  “Why are we doing this?” She asked watching the dragon scrape the bottom of the dish.

“It’s nice,” Artoria replied licking the fork.  True to Nightingale’s expectations, she eyed the next plate.  She was held back by Nightingale’s frigid gaze, and Artoria folded her arms.  “Or, perhaps, the people we were acting as were happy enough.  We still feel them inside us.”  Artoria sipped her water.  “Are you bothered?”

The nurse rested her eyes on Artoria.  “No, not terribly.”

She wasn’t terribly bothered.  Not even when they returned to the bedroom together, when they discarded their clothes and laid together like a man and woman would.  Nightingale had already gotten used to Artoria’s habits.  Her appetite was not limited to simply food.  She could be between Nightingale’s legs for hours, driving her to orgasm after orgasm.  Her wicked tongue seemed to know exactly how to stimulate a woman’s clitoris to draw out maximum pleasure.

There’s no way it could be so pleasurable.  Nightingale thought almost every time, disbelieving the amount of joy Artoria seemed to take from slurping her pussy.  Her fingers ran through locks of Artoria’s blonde hair, urging her head upwards.  Nightingale would like to think that the kings smirk was overconfident but she had made Nightingale come four times already.  “You want to do more today?” Artoria asked, low and sultry.  “I don’t know if I’m satisfied yet.”

“I’ll satisfy you,” Nightingale stated pinching Artoria’s cheek.  “Who heard of a husband that never lets his wife satisfy him?” She smiled faintly, and pressed Artoria on her back.  “I’m confident in my knowledge of a woman’s body, too.”


	12. [ishtar/ritsuka]

It goes without saying that Ishtar liked to be treated a certain way.  She liked to be doted on, and praised.  She liked to be spoiled, given attention whenever she desired.  She liked to step on Ritsuka’s shoulders while being eaten out, looking down on her Master with a feverish grin.  She was the type of woman who enjoyed pressing the sole of her foot on Ritsuka’s cheek, and making sure she was revered in every sense.

So – that being said, she also enjoyed the opposite.  Ishtar would never say so outright.  She’d enjoy having Ritsuka be her proper little sub whenever she desired without ever thinking of it any other way.  But she did enjoy different things.  Adventure and all that.  She licked her lips, legs spread, and pulled at the sheets above her head.  It was unfair of her to be so beautiful, Ritsuka often thought.  Even in a human’s body, she was unreasonably attractive.  Her red eyes sparkled as Ritsuka licked and bit at her thighs.

“Awfully arrogant today, aren’t you” Ishtar said through a grin, wrapping her leg over Ritsuka’s back.  “Sure you won’t just break down and beg me to tell you what to do?”

Heedless to her jeering, Ritsuka didn’t slow down.  She was more than familiar with her Archer’s pussy, and didn’t need instruction on how to make her mad with pleasure.  Her tongue shot out, taking greedy long laps at her already all too wet lips.  Ishtar moaned approvingly, one hand leaving the sheets to pull at Ritsuka’s hair.  Not bothering to worry about the sound, Ritsuka slurped and sucked with vigor.

Ishtar rose her hips to meet her.  Her back arched, and she had her first orgasm of many.  Ritsuka licked her clean, knowing full well of her Archer’s appetites.  When they got started, Ishtar wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than four orgasms, and her limit – well, Ritsuka hadn’t found it yet.  The body of a goddess must be hard to deal with.  “As you can see, I’m feeling pretty ‘willful’ today,” Ritsuka said, none too gently rolling the goddess on her stomach.  “You don’t mind, right?”

From over her shoulder, Ishtar’s eyes glittered.  “I’ll only mind if you bore me,” she answered, hiking her hips up.  “Don’t waste my time, Master.”

With her ass on display, Ritsuka couldn’t help but admire.  Her cute pussy, still puffy and aching from being eaten, drew her eyes first.  However, a more bestial part of her couldn’t help but notice her anus.  She couldn’t help but want it, seeing as it was defenseless.  She leaned in, eagerly rimming her goddess.  Ishtar laughed a moan, wiggling her ass onto Ritsuka’s face.

“Hey, what are you?  A dog?” She scolded, yet forcefully ground her hips against Ritsuka’s face.  Her moans continued, reaching it’s peak as Ritsuka shamelessly buried her tongue inside.  “Ah – good, you really are something…!”  Her hands pulled at the sheets ahead of her.

In the roll of Ishtar’s hips, Ritsuka slid a finger in her.  The reaction was immediate.  In combination with the rimming, her walls squeezed down on Ritsuka’s finger and she came again.  Her hips began to shake.  “Are you bored?” Ritsuka asked, slowly beginning to finger her goddess.

A roll of drunk laughter escaped Ishtar as she bucked her hips back against Ritsuka.  “Not yet, Master.”


	13. [scáthach/ritsuka]

She had said once that she only allowed the finest warriors in her bed chambers.

Ritsuka had to wonder if she was making an exception like her.  Scáthach was less than straightforward.  In her usual, distant yet direct way, she had told Ritsuka that she would meet up with her in her room.  The pretense was obvious.  She had played the role of teacher for awhile now, guiding Ritsuka with the wisdom that only someone like her could provide.  When Ritsuka opened the door to her room, Scáthach gave her a long glance over her shoulder, wearing nothing except a sheet that she had draped over her shoulders.

“You’ve arrived,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips.  The door shut behind Ritsuka and the sheet fell to the ground.  Scáthach was a woman of unspeakable beauty, both in a legendary sense and a literal one.  Her shape was almost mathematically perfect; ample chest, small waist, thick mouth watering ass.  Her gait, even, was designed to heighten that experience.  The sway of her hips to the way her long, silky hair shifted as she moved.

Her hand cupped Ritsuka’s cheek.  “You’re surprised.  How cute,” she traced Ritsuka’s jaw, and drifted her hand to the first button on her uniform.  “Do you understand why I’m here?”

Ritsuka nodded stiffly, but she was lying.  Whatever Scáthach called her for, Ritsuka was overeager to answer.  The front of her shirt was open, and Ritsuka tried to lift her eyes up from Scáthach’s plush thighs.  “We, uh,” Ritsuka was truly brilliant and a master of wit.  She licked her lips.  “We’re…”

Scáthach closed her eyes and chuckled, resting her palms on Ritsuka’s thighs.  “Here I thought I was giving you what you desired of me,” she answered and when she reopened her eyes, they were filled with warmth.  “Though – I’m not wrong?” Her hand boldly slid between Ritsuka’s legs, and her Master jumped in response.  “You desire more than a spear of me.”

“That’s – true,” Ritsuka squirmed, Scáthach had not removed her fingers from her now wet cunt.  With masterful skill, her fingers moved and Ritsuka’s hands shot to the wall behind her to keep her knees from buckling.  Her breath left her completely.  “But, y-you…”

Even through her underwear, Scáthach’s fingers knew exactly where to strike.  Her eyes seemed to ooze a smugness, and she leaned in nipping the bottom of Ritsuka’s lip.  “Shh.  Don’t worry,” her tone was superior, but content.  She drew her hand back, and slid it beneath Ritsuka’s waistband.

Being touched shouldn’t be too terribly different between over clothes and bare skin.  Yet Ritsuka had to press her back harder against the wall to keep her legs from giving up on her.  It was so much better to have direct contact.  Despite her best efforts, a noisy moan escaped her lips, desperate for Scáthach’s touch.

“I see, you do need better guidance,” Scáthach said, mostly to herself, and curled her fingers.  Ritsuka whimpered, unsure if that was in her benefit or not.  Scáthach licked Ritsuka’s lips.  “As I said, Master, don’t worry.  I will give you more than my spear.”


	14. [osakabehime/ritsuka]

“Your orders arrived, senpai.”  Mash plopped a few small boxes into Ritsuka’s hands.

This was becoming a problem.  Ever since that Osakabe managed to cuddle and kiss her way into Ritsuka’s credit card, the orders were nonstop.  Thankfully, she was fairly merciful with her expenses, using Chaldea’s credit for the more expensive things, boxes seemed to land in Ritsuka’s palms every day.  Of course, no matter who’s account it was, Osakabe put Ritsuka’s name down for some reason.

As the world’s most capable Courier, Ritsuka delivered the parcels direct to her Assassin’s room.  As always, the interior was dark, and smelled faintly of easy to make meals and soft drinks.  But since Ritsuka had been around, it was relatively clean.  “You got some mail,” she said moving to Osakabe’s futon.

The Servant in question spared her a glance from her computer.  “Welcome back, Maa-chan,” she greeted with a smile.  Wrapped up in blankets, dressed in nothing but a yukata (and nothing underneath, Ritsuka found) Osakabe looked the part of some kind of hikko dream girl.  “I think one of them is my new humidifier.  Could you open it for me?”  She tapped the keys on her keyboard, fully engrossed in whatever she was doing.

This wasn’t exactly unusual, so Ritsuka didn’t particularly mind.  Locating a box knife from a drawer, she cut open the first of the two packages.  The contents – yes, a humidifier.  A nice one too.  Ritsuka flinched, she hoped it wasn’t her bank account that came from.  She moved to the other, mainly out of her own curiosity.  Ritsuka blushed.  It certainly spoke to Osakabe’s interests.

“Oh, yeah, what’s in the other one?” Osakabe asked, only to feel Ritsuka sidle up behind her.  She leaned back with a hum and cuddled up.  “Feeling aggressive, Maa-chan?”

Ritsuka wrapped her arms around her, and slid her hands lower.  With a press of a button, the bullet vibrator began to buzz.  Osakabe nearly jumped in her arms, the vibration pressed right between her legs.  “Yeah, I’m feeling aggressive.” Ritsuka replied cheerily.  Her free hand parted the yukata, giving Ritsuka access to her bare skin.  “You bought some cute toys.”

Osakabe writhed against her, trying fruitlessly to get away from the bullet pressed against her clit.  “A-ah,” she moaned, gripping at Ritsuka’s legs.  “I forgo – t!  I wanted to surprise you.” She whimpered in satisfaction as the vibrator began to rub against her.  Ritsuka kissed her neck.

“I’m pretty surprised,” was her cheeky response.  “There’s all sorts of stuff in there.”

Double sided dildos, wrist restraints, and even a flogger.  Osakabe’s appetites were never so clearly displayed.  Her Assassin shook, “Aa – h, Maa-chan!  I’m close, I’m close!” She cried, pulling Ritsuka’s free hand to her breast.  Ritsuka squeezed tightly and removed the vibrator.

“So, whose bank account did you use, Hime-chan?”  
“He – eeh!”


	15. [dom!mordred/ritsuka]

Thomas Malory said something like, “with Arthur was none other life but war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss.”  Describing why the people rallied behind Mordred instead of their king.  That Mordred, himself, wanted to bring peace and stability to the land while Arthur sought to defend from invaders.

The Mordred that Ritsuka knew seemed to fit that image perfectly.  Her strong, beautiful knight that wanted to ease the burden of others at the very core of her heart.  Thoughtfully, genuinely, acting with regality in her own rebellious sort of way.  Ritsuka often enjoyed her Mordred as her knight, in service.  To touch and to please as she wanted.  So, it was both a surprise and not one at all when Mordred changed things up.

“No,” Mordred’s pinky finger was stronger than Ritsuka would ever be, so it took her no effort to push her back onto the bed.  “You stay there.  I’ll be giving orders today.”  She slid the sleeves off her shoulders and wriggled herself out of the rest of her outfit.  “Mas – Ritsuka,” she clarified, and the way Mordred said her name shot straight between her legs.  “You have nothing to worry about.”

A cool, aggressive Mordred was unexpectedly sexy.  Ritsuka straightened her back and squeezed her thighs together.  “Yes,” she nodded, swallowing the forming lump in her throat.  “Thank you, my king.”  For a second, Mordred’s face was lit with delight and surprise.  But quickly, it settled into a self satisfied smirk.  Her knight, no her king, made sure to drive her heart into overdrive.  Mordred moved with focused, purposeful direction – undressing Ritsuka and letting her fingers linger on her bare skin just long enough to leave Ritsuka wanting.

More gently than Ritsuka could imagine, Mordred pushed her flush against the bed.  An overwhelming, soft domination.  It fit the king that desired to shoulder everyone’s suffering perfectly.  “Don’t resist,” Mordred said, but it was a command.  Fire coursed through Ritsuka’s veins, feeling Mordred’s hands roughly cup her breasts.  “You’ll do that for your king, won’t you, Ritsuka?”

Ritsuka writhed beneath Mordred’s touch.  What she expected was far different than the reality – but oh so better.  In each hand, she pinched Ritsuka’s nipples with more strength than necessary. Tears pricked at her eyes, her pain threshold quickly tested.  “Ahh – nn,” despite being told not to resist, Ritsuka had to twist beneath Mordred’s fingers.  With complete understanding, Mordred released her and kneaded Ritsuka’s tits.

“You’re serving your king very well, Ritsuka,” Mordred said, and the arrogant tone in her voice was frustrating.  In her full king mode, she was unlike the stuttering sub Ritsuka was used to.  It made the throbbing in her pussy far more urgent.  Once again, it was as if she were an open book.  A piece of land that Mordred cared for and understood.  Her smirk was far too smug.  Mordred spread Ritsuka’s pussy with her index and ring finger, and began to lightly stroke her with the middle.  “And if you serve your king well, your king will take care of you.”

Fuck – this was just unreal.  The thick sappy noises coming from Ritsuka’s cunt made her body hot.  Worse yet, the single finger was not enough.  “My king, please,” she sighed, fingers curling into the sheets.  Mordred just grinned in that confident, cruel way that she did.

“Please, what, Ritsuka?” Her reply almost came out as a hum.  She made sure to clearly enunciate Ritsuka’s name every time she said it.  It was far too obvious that she was enjoying herself.  “I’m very busy, you know.  I have a lot to take care of.  You have to be specific.”

Her finger didn’t change it’s pace at all.  Fuck, she was being serious.  Ritsuka grit her teeth, “my king, please  _fuck me_.  I want  _my king_  to fuck me till I break.” The two fingers spreading her closed, generously rubbing Ritsuka’s cunt as the most immediate response.  Her body shuddered in relief.

“Luckily for you, Ritsuka,” Mordred leaned in, her body so close that Ritsuka could feel her heat.  “Your king is very generous.”


	16. [artoria alter/jeanne alter]

Once again, things ended up like this.  They bickered and bickered, and got some things set on fire.  Noble Phantasms were used.  Master’s perfectly good salad – ruined.  So they were put in what Ritsuka warmly described as ‘the get along room.’

It was just a normal room inside Chaldea.  However, it was one they were not let out of until their moods subsided.  No Noble Phantasms were allowed, no holy swords or evil flags.  Just arguing until the spark fizzled out completely.  Not that it ever did, or ever did for long.  But the get along room served it’s purpose enough.  It kept Artoria Alter and Jeanne Alter away from other people long enough that normalcy could come back to Chaldea.

On the inside, though, things usually followed the same pattern.  They argued, blamed the other for making Ritsuka put them in the get along room, argued some more and then devolved into angry sex.  Trapping the two Alter’s in a small space would, in fact, always end up the same way.  Inevitably, things would end up with Jeanne saying something like, “your brute strength is the only reason Master keeps you around.  You couldn’t do anything skillfully if you tried.”

To which Artoria would grit her teeth, replying something similar to, “then you must have a whore’s cunt to come as many times as I’ve made you.”

Finally, convincing Jeanne to invariably challenge her like, “you overestimate yourself.  If I don’t fake it, you’ll never stop.”

That’s how they ended up the way they did.  Jeanne’s back painfully pressed against the bedroom wall, digging her nails into Artoria’s back.  The violently charged sex never went without injury, and the usual suspect was Artoria’s muscular back.  The curve and contour of her muscle gave the perfect spring for Jeanne’s nails.  Between them, Artoria’s calloused fingers roughly spread and rubbed Jeanne’s pussy.  It wasn’t untrue – with her hands, Artoria Alter’s best trait was her brute strength.

Jeanne pulled the Saber close to her, dragging her teeth along Artoria’s neck until she caught skin.  Her bite bruised and cut, forming a wound just beneath Artoria’s ear.  “See, you can’t expect to make me come with those worthless fingers,” even if she said that, Jeanne eagerly thrust her hips against Artoria’s hand.  She bit on Artoria’s ear lobe, pressing down until Artoria’s hand stopped.  She hummed arrogantly.  “That’s right – you only have one strength.”

Artoria pulled back.  Effortlessly and unceremoniously, she threw Jeanne to the bed.  “Said the pillow princess that’s only purpose is to be fucked,” she said grasping her thighs to spread them.  “You are,” Artoria descended, tracing Jeanne’s slit with the tip of her tongue.  “The most worthless thing Master has.”

It was a fact.  Artoria, in any of her incarnations, loved to eat.  Eat food, junk and healthy, and eat pussy.  Thus, when you had something you loved, you developed a skill around it.  Jeanne’s body trembled; Artoria’s tongue a mysterious Noble Phantasm of its own.  A cry of satisfaction slipped from Jeanne’s lips, and her hips rose to meet her.  Her whole world existed around Artoria’s tongue – a fact Artoria knew so well.

“Let me come, damn it,” Jeanne struggled and wrested against Artoria’s face.  “Hurry up and f-finish me.”

Smugly, Artoria slowed her pace further.  There was entertainment in the get along room, after all.


	17. [ishtar/ritsuka/ereshkigal]

A very awful, and a very irrational part of Ritsuka’s brain was like, “hey this is awesome.”

The truth was, it was the opposite of awesome.  Honestly, she hadn’t even been trying to lead either goddess on.  They kind of set themselves up for that.  Ritsuka treated them with the same spoiling and kindness that she treated most of her Servants.  But, a deep part of her knew, she shouldn’t have done that.  The reason was simple.  Very simple.  Ereshkigal and Ishtar were both the same and opposite.  So, they stood on polar ends of an argument and then attacked it with the same vigor.

Ritsuka lied on her back.  She wondered if this was what samurai felt like, composing their death poems.  On one side of her body, Ereshkigal brushed her palm against the inside of Ritsuka’s thigh, arguing hotly on who Ritsuka spoiled more.  On the other, Ishtar had Ritsuka’s arm pressed at the center of her chest, the tips of her fingers trapped in the softness of Ishtar’s thighs.  It was the very precipice of purgatory.  Heaven mingled with hell.  If only they stopped bickering for one second, this could go very positively for Ritsuka very quickly.

But that was a fate refused of her.  “Master, your favorite,” Ishtar began rubbing her thighs together on Ritsuka’s fingers, “it’s me, right?  You’re not interested in gloomy girls that don’t have any sense of aesthetics.”

The fingers that lingered between Ritsuka’s thighs brushed upwards, just barely touching the fabric of her panties.  “Puh-leese,” Ereshkigal scoffed, rubbing her cheek on Ritsuka’s shoulder.  “Gaudy, useless women like Ishtar aren’t your type, right, Master?  You prefer me.”

This was it, Ritsuka decided.  She was going to die.  She had a good time on earth.  Did a lot for the future of mankind.  She was fairly proud of herself.  Being shredded by two gorgeous goddesses was not the worst possible way to go.  Trying to find a zen state of mind, Ritsuka took a deep breath.  If she was going to die, she might as well do it in a blazing glory.  “I can’t decide,” she said, achieving nirvana in her acceptance of death.  She felt death creep upon her, both sets of scarlet eyes burning gaping holes in her flesh.

“What a useless Master,” the blonde piped up first, irritably.  “Do you need me to show you how much I love you then?”

“Surely if you can’t decide, it’s because you don’t know how much better I am,” Ishtar spoke second, with the exact same tone in her voice.  “Stay still.”

That monkey part of her brain resurfaced, hooting and hollering at a personal victory that was almost assuredly going to bite her in the ass.  That being said – goddamn, it was worth it.  In a matter of minutes, Ishtar had stripped down and promptly sat squarely down on Ritsuka’s face.  Her pussy was wet, hot and grinding in the most pleasing fashion against Ritsuka’s nose and lips that she was completely unprepared for Ereshkigal’s tongue burying into her folds.

“See, that’s why you can’t decide,” Ishtar panted and bounced, heedless to Ritsuka’s general safety.  Her hand shot out, smacking the top of her Master’s head.  “You’re not appreciating me right.  Use your tongue, hurry up.”

Ritsuka quickly answered the command, lapping up at the goddess as best she could.  After all, her attention was greatly divided, as her clit was being sucked into the other’s mouth.  Ritsuka whimpered, feeling Ereshkigal’s slender fingers slide right into her pussy.  “Admit it, you’d rather be fucked than fuck, right?”  Her sultry voice made Ritsuka shudder.  “See, Master’s squeezing me.”

This was – definitely going to bite her in the ass later.  But Ritsuka was going to enjoy it for now.


	18. [nonsmut! atalanta steals ritsuka]

“Oops,” was all Merlin had to say in the matter.

Mash couldn’t fathom how someone can oops an adult woman into a child.  One minute Ritsuka was asking for a way to increase bust size, the next, she was approximately six years old, in a bundle of her own clothing.  With the voice of reason gone, Mash proceeded to kill the greatest mage of the age of Gods.  Well – no, it was more like she was going to and then Ritsuka dashed off and Mash realized there were better things to do with her time.

“It’ll wear off in a day or so,” Merlin answered in his carefree sort of way.  “Even Artoria’s penis wore off – uuof!!” Mash proceeded to smack him with the flat side of her shield.  His lips had outlived their purpose after all, and he could gladly return to the throne of heroes.

Because now Mash had to find Ritsuka.  Considering her immediate response to the situation was run, she had to assume there was a mental regression.  If there was a mental regression, that meant a lot of things.  Most importantly, Ritsuka was liable to hurt herself in a complex filled with heroes and villains of all shapes and sizes and – Mash rounded a corner, finding Atalanta carrying Ritsuka on her back.

Silence.

Mash found this silence profoundly terrifying for some reason she could not understand.  The way Atalanta’s expression held trepidation, confusion, guilt left her reeling.  What confusing thing was happening now?  Finally, Mash swallowed, “you found Master.”

A sweat broke out on Atalanta’s face.  Then finally, she smiled crookedly.  “I-I did!  Wh-what happened?” As if she knew?  Mash was more confused than ever.

“It was,” Mash’s heart beat in her ears, almost afraid to tell the truth, “a mistake made by Merlin?”  Why was she making it into a question?  Why was this suddenly an issue?  Immediately, Atalanta seemed to relax.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” she sighed.  What was she worried about?  Sweat formed on Mash’s cheek now.  “I thought that I wished – no,” she shook her head, “no, don’t worry about it.”

Another length of silence, and Mash suddenly became afraid that she would not get her Master back.  Atalanta seemed fairly firm in her grip.

“Can I have senpai back?” “I can take care of her till the magic fades.”

They spoke at the same time.  Mash’s lips tightened.  She wasn’t going to get Ritsuka back.


	19. [artoria/morgan le fay]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: _it's incest_

Morgan had hated her.  That much was certain.

In her heart, she could not fathom the entity that was Artoria.  The Once and Future King that Merlin had toiled over.  She did not have room to accommodate Uther’s love for Artoria.  She did not have room in her heart to feel compassion for her.  She, in her eyes, was a barrier.  Someone that Morgan could not overcome.  It made her heart boil, and heavy, and leaden.  She was the older sister, overlooked and unwanted, despite being acknowledged and pampered.  She would never be Artoria.

And, oh, she hated her.  She hated her beautiful face.  She hated the gentle cantor to her voice.  She hated the rough, boyish shape of her body.  The twinkling way her eyes stayed, Caliburn in hand, as she struggled to be the King their father wanted her to be.  She hated the miserable, confusing lust in her body – an ignorant Artoria, so young and unguarded, flirted shyly.  Merlin was away, foolish, doing something that pleased him.  He was not protecting their king.  Morgan hated the inexperienced way Artoria kissed her for the first time.  Trying to imitate the way she had seen Merlin do it many times.

She had no idea who she was kissing.  Morgan was any woman in the kingdom.  Someone who didn’t mind Artoria’s body, supposedly, didn’t mind the secrecy.  Morgan hated her genuineness, and the fumbling of her rough swordsman fingers.  The way her eyes sparkled the first time her tongue touched a woman’s parts.  Morgan hated that the first person she gave her body to was Artoria.  That she chose to do it, and continued to choose as the inexperienced knight gave her virginity to Morgan as well.

Morgan hated that, no matter the length of time between their meetings, Artoria looked as beautiful as she did the night they fucked in a nameless inn.  As shamelessly boyish, as toned and flawless.  The only thing that changed was her eyes.  The first time Morgan laid with Artoria, she had a smile, shining clear eyes that made Morgan want to make mistake after mistake.  The second time, her eyes were colder.  She looked like a king.

When Morgan held Artoria against her body, just rooms away from her wife, she smelled like a king too.  Like iron and sweat and incense.  Artoria saw her, knew who she was.  Remembered their fit of passion years prior, and she let it happen too.  Her hands were as rough as Morgan remembered, and she hated that she was happy about that.  The second time, Artoria fucked her within an inch of her life, all without making a peep herself.  She said, “don’t come again.”

The third time Morgan entered Artoria’s bedchambers, she was someone else.  A woman that would never love her.  It was fine like that, Artoria seemed to think.  But Morgan knew more than anyone that it was not fine.  Even if there was hatred, it was not fine to be unloved.  Artoria still looked like the boyish knight in the inn, but her eyes were empty by now.  Looking down at Morgan, thinking she was Artoria’s wife down the hall.

Her fingers were still rough.  Her body was still muscular an boyish.  Morgan hated it.  She hated the cock that Merlin gave Artoria.  She hated the way Artoria thrust it down her throat.  She hated the way that Artoria looked at her, because she looked at Guinevere so differently than she looked at Morgan.  More than anything, Morgan hated that she wanted – just once – for Artoria to look at her like that again.  Like she did in that inn without a name.

She let Artoria thrust her cock in her, thicker than Artoria’s fingers ever were.  She let Artoria come inside her, filling her ovary with her kingly seed.  She let Artoria cry, ever so softly against her back.  Thinking that Morgan was her wife – the wife that would never love her.

Morgan hated her, and she hated herself, because she could not comfort her and she wanted to.


	20. [ryougi shiki (void)/ritsuka]

She didn’t sleep at night, so there wasn’t much to do.  She usually would go through the information passed into her through the summoning system.  But, typically, Shiki preferred to watch Ritsuka sleep.  The time for wondering if it was unusual had long since passed, since her Master knew about it and didn’t mind.  The major issue was that aside from going through information, being lonely, and watching Ritsuka sleep – there was little else for her to do.  Something that she normally waited out.

Shiki’s face was hot.  It wasn’t the first time she had caught her Master having an odd dream, but this was the first time she watched her Master have a wet dream.  Ritsuka’s posture had long since left, the blanket fallen partially off her body, to expose the plain underwear she slept in.  Her face was red too, and her vocalizations ranged from pitiful to erotic.  Shiki’s eyes lowered to her chest, where her nipples were stiff and poked through the fabric.

Swallowing meekly, Shiki considered her options.  Wake up Ritsuka, and perhaps finding out something she didn’t want to know.  Or let her sleep and deal with this torture.  Shiki’s hand sank between her legs.  It wouldn’t hurt to leave her sleeping for a bit.  She worked between the folds of her kimono, finding her pussy shamefully wet.  It was impolite to do this.  Shiki closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of Ritsuka’s sleepy moans.  Her fingers began to work.  Masturbating to her Master.  It wasn’t the first time she had done it, really, but it was the first time she was so bold.

“Haah,” A sigh escaped Shiki’s lips, her fingers running and circling around her clit.  Again, in what was not the first time, she thought of her fingers as Ritsuka’s.  Roughly handling her body, not at all unlike how they fought together on quests.  Unlike other occasions, Ritsuka’s actual fingers were in sight.  Resting on the surface of the bed less than a foot away.  So close she could taste them.  It was hard to resist the temptation.

But she did, with much effort.  Watching her Master writhe, a sexual charge to her demeanor, Shiki could more easily visualize.  Ritsuka’s hands, Ritsuka’s breasts.  She could reach out and take them if she wanted, but it would’ve been nicer to be taken.  The brilliant red of the Command Seal on Ritsuka’s hand always caught her eye.  It was an ever present place in her thoughts.  She would’ve liked to be Commanded.  Stay Still.  Spread your legs.  If it was her Master, she loved to be ordered.

In her head, the images buzzed of Ritsuka awakening.  Still aroused from her dream, she would take advantage of Shiki’s now deplorable state.  Her cunt twitched at the thought.  It was shameful to think so, probably, but she did trust Ritsuka.  Even if her Master ordered her to show her filthy pussy, that she had been so feverishly fingering.  She would be happy – happy to be of use and to be used.  The thought of her Master forcefully – lovingly – taking her ignited her lust.

“Mmm – ❤❤ !”  She tried to restrain her voice as she came.  Closing her eyes tight, Shiki rubbed each wave out until all that remained was a pleasant hum.  She only had enough time to think about being ashamed of herself before the bed shifted underneath her chin.

Ritsuka’s cheeks were red, but she cleared her throat.  “ – Shiki.”  The Command Seal on her hand glimmered.


	21. [gorgon/ritsuka]

Ritsuka’s stomach was pressed against the ground, and she had long since lost the capacity to move.  Squarely placed on the center of her back was Gorgon’s foot, and her broad wicked talons pierced holes through her uniform.  Blood welled in tiny pricks beneath that, a wordless threat.  Gorgon could gore her and crush her without a minutiae of wasted effort.  Despite her fear, and the sharp pain in her back, Ritsuka could clearly feel her pulse between her legs.

“You have starved me for far too long, Master,” Gorgon said coolly, and as she spoke, the serpents that made her hair slithered towards Ritsuka.  They coiled and piled upon her, wrapping around each leg and, delicately, shredded her pantyhose with their fangs.  As they grew ever closer to her core, Ritsuka trembled and attempted to writhe away.  The foot on her back didn’t give her an inch.  “I need mana, Master.  I will take it if I have to.”

Her foot lifted, just enough so that only her talons remained in the fabric, and pulled back.  Effortlessly, she destroyed the back of Ritsuka’s uniform, exposing her back and ass.  Gorgon took a step forward, straddling Ritsuka’s body between her ankles.  She waited to see if her Master would move, and when she didn’t, she reached out and tore the remaining top half of the uniform.  “Gor – ngh,” Ritsuka began to speak, but the flat of her Servant’s foot rested on the back of her skull.  With a little force, her nose was pressed into the ground.  “ – gon…”

Her hair did not wait for permission.  The snakes flickering their tongues out against Ritsuka’s unguarded cunt.  Ritsuka’s body jerked in surprise, which only earned her a harder thrust to the ground.  Her nose ached, and frustratingly, she grew wetter at the cruelty.  She wondered if that’s what the serpents were checking for, because as her cunt ached, Gorgon huffed to herself.  “Filthy,” she stated, her disgust so perfectly clear in her voice.  The pressure from the back of Ritsuka’s head eased, and she could sense Gorgon kneeling down behind her.  The snakes coiled around Ritsuka’s thighs, restraining them and keeping them open.

Ritsuka felt her pussy twitch, begging for attention.  Shamefully, she struck out her hips, trying to invite the monster in.  Anything, she felt like at this point.  Thankfully, Gorgon’s claws cupped her.  Too sharp to be too pleasurable, but Ritsuka moaned despite herself.  “You’re quite the whore, aren’t you, Master,” Gorgon said, spreading Ritsuka’s lips open, the movement was accompanied with the squelching of wetness.  Keeping her spread, Gorgon pressed her tongue right into Ritsuka’s entrance.

Without restraint, Ritsuka screamed in pleasure.  Even if Gorgon’s nails dug into her skin, the way her tongue wrested against Ritsuka’s hungry pussy made her forget all about it.  Gorgon slurped and vocalized, removing her tongue to lash from her entrance to her swollen clit with monstrous strength.  Ritsuka wanted to move, to hump Gorgon’s face in desperation, but as she attempted, Gorgon removed one hand from Ritsuka’s ass to her back.  The force used to push Ritsuka down was enough to restrain a Servant.

She was lucky if she didn’t break a rib.  Yet somehow, Ritsuka cried out, biting her wrists and hands in ecstasy.  Bit by bit, she felt her mana being drawn from her.  Without her mystic code to assist her, her struggle grew weaker accompanied by the rush of libido.  Her eyes lost focus, and Gorgon drew her orgasm closer and closer until her body completely surrendered.  Ritsuka wept, climax sending her body into shakes as Gorgon swallowed every ounce of her come.

Before she had the chance to relax, Gorgon took her by her hair.  Having moved from behind Ritsuka to her front, Avenger dropped her dress to her ankles.  Her flawless pussy dripped with anticipation for Ritsuka’s mouth.  “You’re not done, Master.”


	22. [artoria lily/mordred/ritsuka]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: _you can perceive it as incest_

“That’s it, baby,” Lily’s hands brushed against Mordred’s hips, guiding her down on the all too familiar strap-on.  What was different was Ritsuka’s fingers stimulating her clit while she did it.  “Show Master how good you can take Daddy’s cock.”

Mordred whined, overstimulated, filling herself to the hilt.  This wasn’t how she imagined a sexy threesome with Lily and Ritsuka was supposed to go.  In her head, she and Lily dominated their Master with their superior Saber strength, and made her beg for release.  Somehow, though, the tables were quickly turned on her.  Lily and Ritsuka had some sort of unspoken bond which quickly sandwiched Mordred between them.  Her face was flush, her dirty secret so quickly exposed to Ritsuka out of not just Lily’s lips but her own.

“Ah – hhh,” Mordred leaned against Lily’s body, bringing her fingers down to her cunt to spread her lips, giving Ritsuka full view of her shame.  “Do you see, Master?” Ritsuka withdrew her own fingers to lean down and admire as Lily began to move.  Embarrassment surged through her, completely humiliated Ritsuka’s gaze.  But now that she was there – Mordred wanted her to watch.

Ritsuka had other ideas.  “I see, you must be Daddy’s special boy,” Ritsuka adjusted to the game quickly, a grin rising on the edge of her lips.  She straightened up, putting her hand in Mordred’s hair.  “But your Master deserves love too.”  With a little force, Mordred’s head was brought downwards, and she ended up descending to her knees and elbows.  Ritsuka pulled up her skirt, exposing her glistening pussy beneath.  Mordred immediately understood the request, burying her face between her Master’s legs as if she were starved.

There she was – quite a bit different than her fantasy, but no less pleasurable.  Her wet cunt pounded on one end by her Daddy, and on the other side, her face was being roughly fucked by her Master.  A new meaning for a word appeared in her head.  Planted information was common in Servants, but rarely so with sexual things.  Spit roasting?  Mordred panted, trying to focus on eating Ritsuka out.  It was hard when Lily pinched her clit as she pumped her cock in her.

Luckily for her, Ritsuka would not be left outdone.  Filling her fingers with Mordred’s hair, her Master pulled her close, none too gently rutting her pussy against Mordred’s face.  Smeared with Ritsuka’s sweet juice, she extended her tongue out eagerly, trying to savor and pleasure her Master.  “That’s it, good boy,” Ritsuka moaned, not slowing her hips in the slightest.

Her face burned hot, enjoying the praise.  Behind her, her own cunt dripped, running wet lines down her thighs as Lily drove her ever closer to orgasm.  “She is Daddy’s boy, after all,” Lily chimed in, breathless as her pace doubled.  Mordred choked a moan right into Ritsuka’s cunt.  Despite being an Artoria that had yet to use Merlin’s magic for conception, she was strangely adept at using that fake cock in the right ways.

Her hips shook, and Mordred knew that she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself.  “Daddy,” she begged, squeezing her thighs together, “Master…!”

Taking a handful of hair, Ritsuka pulled Mordred’s head up to breathe while Lily fucked her into climax.  Drooling and smothered in come, Mordred whimpered in ecstasy as she came.  She collapsed to the bed, between Lily and Ritsuka, weak.  Lily’s hand came to her head, petting Mordred as she and Ritsuka snuggled up to each side of her.  Once again, they formed a Mo Sandwich.

Lily placed some kisses upon Mordred’s lips, licking Ritsuka’s come in the process.  “Have fun?”  When Mordred closed her eyes and nodded, Lily laughed.  “Good, rest up for round 2 then.”


	23. [medea lily/artoria]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: implications of underage

Originally, Artoria paid attention to her out of curiosity.

The Medea in her memory was an older woman, of scary beauty, with a sadistic streak a mile long.  She was a woman who took Artoria hostage, held her at her mercy.  Someone that, if she met again, Artoria would not treat lightly.  But this Medea was not that person.  Not truly.  She was young, and twinkly eyed.  With a forced sense of kindness, an irrational sense of trust.  She had a smile that lit up a room.  Her beautiful profile, features obscured by the light, reminded Artoria of someone she once knew.

Medea Lily was so much like the Guinevere in her memory.  They were similar in age, so the appearance was a given.  But it was her personality that made Artoria seek her out.  Guinevere had such a pure mind when they were first married.  She didn’t see their sexes, or view each other in a way that was malicious.  They loved each other, in that special way.  Artoria could not have ever loved her.  But – even now, she wondered what it would be like if she could.

It was an unkindness for Artoria to do this.  Her fingers locked with Medea’s as they walked.  To take the purity of another princess from another place.  To steal away someone’s happiness out of selfish reasons.  But, Artoria wanted to fall in love.  She wanted to recapture Guinevere’s heart, even if it was through someone else.  Medea’s smile made the weight easier.  Artoria should’ve felt ashamed.  Her tongue greedily sought out Medea’s mouth, kissing her with a passion she could not have ever fathomed.  Touching her neck, her chin – ignoring the surge of healing mana that filled her body.

“Artoria,” Medea said so softly that Saber’s heart broke.  No, not even her wife called that name out.  She never was looked upon with such a kind look from her.  Medea was the only one.  “Your hands…”

They lingered in the dip of Medea’s waist, bundling the fabric of her dress in them.  “I want to,” Artoria began, their lips were so close that she could take them again and again.  This was an unkind thing for her to do.  “Touch you more.”

Color flooded Medea’s face, and her eyes darted around the empty room.  They both knew they were alone, that’s why they went there.  Artoria waited patiently for the response, but her fingers continued to hike up the dress till the hem filled her palms.  She was a shameful person for this – Medea’s cheeks were flush but her eyes were inviting.  Artoria kissed her again, losing her patience, and her aggression earned a squeak of approval.

“A king has a right – ” Her voice was unsteady as she broke the kiss.  Now Artoria was blushing, frustrated.  “To please his queen, right?”  Her palms sank beneath the hem, the fabric falling on her wrists, as she rubbed circles on Medea’s hips.

Her answer was Medea’s lips, seeking her out on her own.  Artoria felt rotten, licking Medea’s mouth open to accept her.  No matter how she looked, her face looked too similar.  Her voice was too soft.  And she wanted – Artoria wanted to know what it would be like.


	24. [brynhildr/jeanne alter]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: it can sound kinda rapey

Jeanne was not her Sigurd.  She was not heroic.  She was not kind.  She wasn’t even a man.  When she looked at Brynhildr, Jeanne didn’t look at her with awe and desire.  She didn’t look at her with the same feverish love that Brynhildr was used to.  Maybe that’s why Brynhildr felt so safe with her.  Like she could love her purely and freely, without fear.  Tragedy wouldn’t follow if she did not love Sigurd.  So, she could love her.  Brynhildr felt liberated, so light and free of her curse that she could not stand it.

So, even if her Jeanne resisted – and sometimes she did – Brynhildr would love her.

Their strengths were not so different that Jeanne couldn’t break away, that’s what Brynhildr thought.  Her hand had seized Jeanne’s wrists and held them tight at the small of her back. She felt a steady resistance, a struggle, but Jeanne didn’t bother using her real strength.  Brynhildr took that as an invitation.  She must have wanted to be loved, after all.  Her free hand slid to the inside of her thighs, caressing them with the utmost reverence.  Her Jeanne had a beautiful, sensuous body.  She had never thought of being attracted to women, but the way her Jeanne sighed beneath her touch made her a believer.

“Stop, you bitch,” Jeanne ordered weakly.  If she cared so much then she could’ve stopped Brynhildr, that’s what she thought.  Their strengths were not so different.  Jeanne even had somewhat of an advantage.  Yet she allowed herself to be held, touched, loved.  “I said – stop it…”  She was so dishonest.

“Eheh,” Brynhildr giggled to herself, so delighted in her beloved.  “You could stop me if you wanted to.” She said it finally, her fingers brushing against Jeanne’s sodden panties.  Ah – she was so hot to the touch.  Jeanne’s entire body trembled beneath her touch.  “You’re so wet.  You don’t really want me to stop, right?”

Jeanne shot her a look over her shoulder, cheek pressed against the wall.  Her brows were furrowed, and eyes were boiling hot.  If she was truly so angry, Brynhildr felt, she would stop her.  Instead Jeanne allowed it to happen.  That meant she loved her too, right?  Brynhildr stroked Jeanne’s cunt, watching her melt into pleasure.  Yes, her Jeanne loved her too.  With each pass of her fingers, Brynhildr stole more and more of her.

Pressing kisses along Jeanne’s thighs, Brynhildr slid her fingers beneath Jeanne’s panties.  Her witch’s cunt was hot and slick – as if begging her to press her fingers deep inside her.  Jeanne’s breathing grew ragged, and all resistance in her wrists disappeared.  “Your honest side is so cute,” Brynhildr hummed, carefully – lovingly – burying her finger inside Jeanne’s cunt.  It devoured her so easily that joy blossomed in Brynhildr’s chest.

Finally, Jeanne’s hips moved just slightly.  “Rougher.” She said, her face fully red.

Aha, there it was.  Brynhildr’s body was on fire with excitement.  The honest, perverted Jeanne that was unlike her Sigurd so.  She drew back her finger and added a second, thrusting with enough strength that she knew Jeanne would have trouble walking later.  An unrestrained moan escaped her Jeanne’s throat, sultry and seductive.  If she was going to make that kind of noise, Brynhildr couldn’t stop herself.  With no warning, she added her ring finger and reveled in the jolt that surged through Jeanne’s body.

Jeanne glared at her with her mouth open, lips wet, and she looked perfect.  “Rougher.”  She said again.  Brynhildr truly loved her.


	25. [tohsaka rin/artoria]

Tohsaka Rin very rarely, if ever, does something she does not want to do.

That’s why, despite sounding annoyed and frustrated every time, Rin lets Saber into her room at night.  First she complains, then she argues, and Saber gets up to leave – and Rin ‘reluctantly’ agrees.  It’s something they’ve done plenty of times, and by now, Rin just enjoys giving Saber a hard time.  After all, once they get started, the King is very demanding.

Just like every time, Rin crossed her legs and pouted.  Dressed down to her underwear and stockings, she knew exactly where Artoria would end up having her eyes linger.  “I don’t even know why I keep doing this?  I have to force you into foreplay every time!” Rin snapped, face hot as she looked away.  An awkward silence filled the air, and Rin looked back. “Well, hurry up!  If you want to do – do what you normally do, you better hurry while I’m in a good mood.”

Saber hesitated the first time, but that was a long time ago.  Having been invited, and firmly told what to do, the blonde pressed her knees against the mattress.  As soon as Saber touched her, she leaned back against the bed, allowing herself to be enjoyed.  There was no part of the King that was masculine, not her back or her face or her hands.  Saber pressed kisses along her collar bone, and her hands sought after Rin’s breasts.

She didn’t need much practice to be good at it, but Saber was a quick study.  After a few times, she knew exactly how hard to twist to make Rin squirm and where to bite to elicit a moan.  She adjusted her position, squeezing between Rin’s crossed legs as if to pry them open.  With her legs apart, the fruit of Saber’s effort was more apparent.  Wet and frustrated, Rin brought the palm of her hand against the top of Saber’s skull.  It’s almost comical as she glanced up, almost completely unaffected.

“What did I say about this?” Rin argued, a little breathless.  “It’s completely unromantic.”

Breaking her silence, Saber laughed.  Her hands drifted against Rin’s sides, and her nose pressed underneath her jaw.  Rin blushed, trying not to smile at the sweetness of her voice.  “My apologies,” Saber said, and her hands slid against Rin’s hips, “you’re always distracting me.”  It was her charisma, but saying little things like that had such a big effect.  Rin sighed with a smirk, feeling one of Saber’s hands drifting between her legs.  “When I see you my hunger becomes insatiable.”

Rin’s back arched as Saber’s fingers slipped beneath her waistband and finally touched her.  It wasn’t her best skill, but someone who worked with their hands as a career was hardly a novice.  With just a few fingers, Saber could turn Rin into a savage, whining and begging for release.  Her hands were small, but agile and her stamina was well beyond even the standard Servant.  She knew how to handle Rin, touching her with a teasing roughness and ‘accidentally’ brushing against Rin’s stiffened clit.

She cursed and moaned, saying every awful thing in her head that would slip out.  All the while, Saber just inched her closer and closer without giving her anything.  “Oka – ay, okay, okay,” Rin whined, clawing at Saber’s back.  “Just go ahead, damn it.  You’ve earned it.  Get down there.” From Saber’s back to her forehead, Rin shoved her.  It took no effort, the blonde had already begun pulling her panties down.  “You’d better make me come!”

It wasn’t like she needed to say that.  Rin found fairly quickly that Saber’s appetites weren’t limited to copious amounts of rice.  Her tongue was made for pussy.  It was just that simple.  If her fingers were Excalibur, then her tongue was Avalon.  A logic breaking artifact that could change everything.  Rin shuddered with Saber’s mouth upon her, sucking and licking up each drop of her before it had the chance to hit the sheets.  Her tongue pressed through Rin’s folds, sucking her in and driving her mad.  Even on good days, Rin couldn’t handle Saber for more than a few minutes.

She gave a long trembling orgasm, pulling at Saber’s hair as she did.  To her credit, the king drank every ounce of her, hazy eyed and drunk on Rin’s sex.  Between the flavor and the generous flow of mana, it was enough to satisfy her.  That’s why Rin didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about rutting against her face.

Rin sighed in contentment, watching Saber lean back and brush any smearing of Rin’s juices into her mouth.  “Are you going to spend the rest of the night in here?”  Rin asked, pulling the blankets over her partially nude body.

“Mhm.  If that’s fine with you.”


	26. [notsmut! saber lily/medea lily]

“Whoa, be careful, Princess.”

The blonde knight caught her as she lost the strength in her step.  Medea, aged fourteen, was held passionately by the Artoria who would eventually become king.  There is something that exists beyond all shades of reality, past and future, and that something is taste.  Medea’s face flushed, and just like that, her switch was flipped.  Fortunately, perhaps, for everyone involved, this Medea was of a purer heart than her older counterpart.  So instead of forming a strange, easy to make fun of obsession, her heart just melted.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, making no hurry to squirm out of the young knight’s arms.  Luckily for her, Artoria made no effort to let her go either.  “Wait, um, did you call me princess?”

It’s not like it would be the wrong word to use.  Medea was, in fact, a princess.  The Princess of Cholcis, in fact.  But the daring, fearsomely gallant way it rolled off Artoria’s tongue made her want to say it again.  “Oh, uh,” it was Artoria’s turn to blush.  “You’re a princess, right?  That felt like the most natural thing to say.  I guess I could’ve said Caster.”  She furrowed her brow a bit, and inwardly, Medea begged her not to use ‘Caster.’  “But, you’re cute.  So Princess fits.  That’s okay, right?”

Her body ached.  This must be the true fearsome power of King Arthur.  A Noble Phantasm that effects the hearts of noble maidens.  Medea lost the strength in her legs.  “Oh!” Artoria bent her knees, catching Medea’s weight.  “Geez, are you sure you’re okay?  You must have used too much mana.”  Heedless to her own situation, Artoria hooked her arm around the back of Medea’s knees and lifted her bridal style.

No more!! Screamed Medea’s innocent soul, which has never once thought of something indecent until that moment.  “You don’t have to carry me, I’m fine!” Medea half argued, putting her arms around Artoria’s neck.  Of course, if Artoria never wanted to put her down, that was fine too.  “How am I going to repay you for something like this?”  She buried her face in Artoria’s neck absolutely shameless.

“Humm,” the knight looked upwards thoughtfully before flashing a smile.  “A kiss?  A kiss from a princess is the greatest honor for a knight.”

This pre-Excalibur Artoria was truly dangerous.  A natural born lady-killer sent to collect all the maidens in the world.  Her shining, honest expression was free of all perversions and the like.  She was being genuine.  Genuine!!!  Medea’s body turned hotter by the second.  Any minute now, she thought, she would burst into flames from sheer embarrassment.  Swallowing her nervousness down, Medea urged Artoria’s head downwards and pressed a kiss onto her cheek.

“Why do you think it’s my fault?!” (the Witch) Medea cried, barely keeping Excalibur back with the edge of Rule Breaker.  “It’s not my fault!  Please direct your anger somewhere appropriate!!”

(the King) Artoria pressed harder, forcing the edge ever closer.  “No, I’m quite certain that such trickery is right up your sleeve.  With your model building and your collections, I’ve passed judgment already.  Don’t struggle.”


	27. [nightingale/ritsuka]

“You understand, I’m very upset with you.”

Nightingale doused the gauze in her hands with antiseptic and none too gently began to clean the gaping bite wounds on Ritsuka’s arm.  Injuries were somewhat common when adventuring, but getting mauled was less so.  She tried, in vain, to say that at least it wasn’t worse.  It could’ve been an adult chimera.  It could’ve been somewhere other than her arms.  When Ritsuka recoiled in pain, Nightingale’s grip on her wrists tightened.  The only thing she could do was suck in a breath and tear up.  The pain caused her nose to run as well, but if that bothered Nightingale at all, it didn’t show.

“I know,” Ritsuka answered, sniffing as she watched Nightingale change gauze after gauze in her efforts to clean the wounds.  “I should’ve used a Command Seal to call a Servant.”

Once she was sufficiently cleaned, her nurse took to wrapping the wounds up.  The way Nightingale handled bandages was akin to artistry.  It dazzled the eyes to see her bind the wrappings in the perfect cinch.  With a gentle squeeze, she checked the tightness then nestled the tip of her fingers in the ends.  Her eyes met with Ritsuka’s, cool and unreadable.  Taking a wrist in each hand, she pulled her Master’s arms up and over her head, making sure to press Ritsuka flush against the medical bed.

“Keep these above your heart,” Nightingale ordered.  Like many of her other Servants, Nightingale had no trouble making commands of her Master.  Her hands lingered above Ritsuka’s head for awhile before she drew back.  “Now, let me look at the claw marks on your torso.”

She shifted, and she could hear Nightingale click her tongue.  The lacerations weren’t particularly deep, but they were nestled close to her armpit.  “There’s a major vein there,” Berserker said, and despite speaking in such a deadpan tone, Ritsuka could taste the disappointment.  “Had the chimera struck you any higher, they would not have brought you to me fast enough.”

Drawing a whimper from Ritsuka, the nurse made sure to thoroughly disinfect the injury.  Her fingers pressed down on the outside of the gauze pads, lining up a spot to bind.  The pressure lasted a little too long each time, and unintentionally, Ritsuka began to hold her breath until the release.  Carefully, Nightingale wrapped the bandage around her chest to keep the pads in place.

“Master, I’m still very upset with you,” she said, closing her eyes.  “I would appreciate it if you would cease taking sexual pleasure from this procedure.”

Ritsuka blushed.  “Eh, no, I’m not – um,” She stuttered.  It wasn’t her fault that Nightingale knew just the right pressure to make it hurt just right.  Besides that, it wasn’t like she was – doing it on purpose.  She attempted to bring her arms down from over her head but found them tied at the wrist.  “Florence?”

The Angel of Crimea opened her eyes with a cool glare.  “You only use my first name when you’re trying to get on my good side,” she said spreading Ritsuka’s legs.  Shedding her gloves, stained lightly with Ritsuka’s blood, her hands slid against the inside of her thighs.  “I have bound your arms so that they remain above your heart.  It will reduce the pain and inflammation.”

Her fingers rested on the outside of Ritsuka’s panties, far more wet than they really should be.  “Don’t struggle,” she said, a faint smile on her lips.  Even though she said she was upset – Nightingale seemed to be quite into it.  Her rose colored eyes had a faint sparkle to them, and she rubbed broad circles against Ritsuka’s panties.  Being told not to struggle was hard if she was going to touch her.

Nightingale’s thumb pressed against her clit, and Ritsuka strained against the binding.  “Flor…ence,” she moaned pitifully, unable to do much more than that.  With her arms tied and her torso too sore to twist, she was placed entirely in Nightingale’s very skilled hands.

Her nurse sighed out a husky laugh.  “As I said, don’t struggle.  I shall take full responsibility for your care tonight.”


	28. [d'eon/marie]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: transwoman!d'eon

“Ah, yes.  Beautiful,” Marie smiled, pulling each individual wrinkle out.  “As always, you are simply breathtaking.”

Once again, like many times, d’Eon was in that dress.  That dress that had held so much meaning in her lifetime.  Gifted to her by Marie Antoinette, who had been the very definition of beauty, the dress had only made her feel stronger.  Standing before her queen now, she felt so much of those emotions spill from her.  Every time, she thought standing upright for her inspection.  Every time it felt like she was going to cry.  Like a part of her would break.

However, it didn’t seem like Marie understood that.  Her eyes drank up d’Eon’s form like a drug, becoming fixated on one part and then to another.  In the peak of their youth, the vibrancy of their life, d’Eon would get to do what she never would be able to.  The Queen of Versailles kissed her, so gently that it left a hunger on d’Eon’s tongue.  Having been given the invitation, she kissed back.  Thirsty, searching – her tongue drawing content mewls out from Marie.

“I’m sorry,” d’Eon said, breaking away from Marie’s lips, “that wasn’t very knightly of me.”

Marie just laughed softly, her cheeks rosy.  “I don’t mind if you’re aggressive,” she answered, hands drifting from d’Eon’s exposed belly to her chest.  “I have always said you’re a good kisser.” Her hands brushed against d’Eon’s sensitive chest, and the knight sighed a whine.  “Yes, see.  Here’s a good girl.”

From her ears to between her legs – it always ended like that.  As much as d’Eon would like to say she had some self restraint, even light praises from Marie brought about arousal.  Cheeks hot, d’Eon put her hands out against Marie’s waist, rubbing her sides nervously.  It wasn’t like this was their first time.  “Marie…” d’Eon began warningly, but far too hotly.  Her queen’s fingers had found her over responsive nipples, gently twisting and tugging on them through the dress.

With a smile, Marie planted another kiss, this time biting d’Eon’s lips as she did.  “Yes, my dear?” She asked quietly, and slipped closer.  Their bodies flush against each other, d’Eon’s face turned redder.  “Oh, I see.  But this is what I wanted.”  Marie continued, slowly rolling her hips against her knight.  With a shudder, d’Eon’s breathing quickened.

“That’s – not,” d’Eon whimpered curling her fingers into Marie’s dress.  “Not fair…”

Marie hummed, separating enough so that her hand could slide between them.  She caressed the bulge forming at the front of d’Eon’s culottes.  “ _Oui_?”  She looked up to d’Eon, slowly and patiently ghosting her fingers above the fabric.  Her knight flushed completely, but nodded slowly.

“ _Oui, merci_.” Given permission, Marie’s hand slid inside d’Eon’s culottes and took her swollen length in her hand.  D’Eon groaned, being freed from her pants.  Marie’s skill in handling it had only improved in their time together, and even just this little bit made her almost uncomfortably hard.

“That’s right – good girl,” The queen purred, pressing kisses on d’Eon’s lips.  In her palm, her cock twitched.  “You’re doing so well, and you’re so hot for your queen.”  Noisily, d’Eon exhaled and rocked her hips into Marie’s palm.  If Marie was going to speak like that, it would make her impatient.  Not minding at all, the Queen of Versailles adjusted the motion of her hand, giving a gentle turning motion over the surface.

D’Eon’s lips trembled, “Marie,” she said breathlessly.  “I-I…”

Hushing her with a kiss, Marie pumped her hand a little quicker.  “Shh, give it to me, d’Eon.  Your queen demands it.”  That much was the final straw, and d’Eon moaned softly as she came.  Marie maintained her stroke, rubbing each spurt out till d’Eon was completely spent.  “Good job, I’m proud of you.” She said, with her usual dazzling smile.

Blushing, d’Eon looked away, not at all minding how Marie looked having her come splattered across the front of her dress.  “Thank you, my queen.” She answered shyly, trying to focus on anything but the dress or Marie’s stained glove.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marie replied pulling d’Eon back for another kiss.


	29. [ushiwakamaru/ritsuka]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> girls don't want boys girls want ushiwakamaru

“My lord,” Ushiwakamaru sat on Ritsuka’s lap, lacing their fingers together.  “Please, let this Ushiwaka serve you tonight.”

It wasn’t terribly unusual for Ushiwaka, especially following a day of fighting, to take the lead.  Even as a fighting prodigy, Ritsuka found, she could get her blood heated and want to take charge.  Ushiwaka smiled, proud of herself, as she leaned downwards and pressed a number of little kisses on Ritsuka’s lips.  Her posture was greedy, and dominating – as it always is when she’s in that kind of mood.

“You’ve earned it, I suppose,” Ritsuka answered between Ushiwaka’s hungry kisses.  Between them, Ushiwaka opened Ritsuka’s sleep wear giving her access to paw at Ritsuka’s breasts.  “How many heads did you bring me today, Ushi?”

Humming proudly, Ushiwaka lapped at her Master’s breasts.  “Four,” she purred.  “General’s heads.  No foot soldiers tied to my belt.”  Her eyes flashed excitedly, and she sank her teeth onto her Master’s all too stiff nipple.  Ritsuka took a sharp breath at the shock, the sensation shooting straight to her crotch.  “My lord’s proud of me.”  Ushiwaka breathed excitedly switching over to the other breast.  “This Ushiwaka has been of great use.”

Beneath her lips and teeth, Ritsuka trembled.  When Ushiwakamaru was aggressive, she spared no effort to please her.  Her tongue, lips, teeth and fingers all had a purpose as if she were practicing a forgotten martial art.  Ushiwaka boldly left lingering marks on Ritsuka’s skin, bitten and sucked along her chest and breasts, until she had properly turned her Master in to a puddle of nerves and desire.

Ushiwaka shifted, pecking Ritsuka on the lips before adjusting her position.  On one side, she could admire her Master’s face as she touched – her hands lingering beneath Ritsuka’s waistband.  With reverence and care, her fingers danced on her Master’s lips.  She could not touch her without such awe and deference, teasing Ritsuka hotly with masterful skill.  Like an arrow against Ushiwaka’s bow, whines and moans were drawn from Ritsuka.

Then, she was released.  Ushiwaka’s fingers immediately finding the correct spot inside Ritsuka to make her shudder.  “Ah, your voice is so cute, my lord,” Ushiwaka sighed, curling her finger against her Master’s g-spot.  “Please make more for this Ushiwaka.”

A simple request to make if she was just going to hit all of Ritsuka’s weak spots.  Ushiwaka brushed her thumb against Ritsuka’s clit, easily and gently, enough to make her body burn.  She could make her Master come at any point, easily, but Ushiwaka continued her teasing.  Bringing Ritsuka up to the edge, then pushing her back.  Greedily drawing all the moans and whimpers Ushiwaka could ever want from her lips.

“U-Ushi,” Ritsuka stuttered.  With all the stimulation, it was hard to speak.  Predictably, there was no standing against an assault from Yoshitsune.  Her sexual prowess was, of course, only outshined by her martial skill.  “N-now…”

Her samurai lit up brightly.  “Yes, of course, my lord,” she answered eagerly, drawing back and adding a second finger.  “Your pleasure comes first.  This Ushiwakamaru shall service you properly.”  Almost before the end of her sentence, the shift in focus nearly sent Ritsuka off. Her body tightened, and jittered around Ushiwaka’s fingers.  It didn’t even take a minute’s effort.

Ushiwakamaru brought her to a shuddering orgasm.  Every inch of her drained, and swept with heat, and Rider carried her through the high.  Her fingers dillgently doing their part until Ritsuka’s strength returned.  Removing her fingers, Ushiwaka licked each clean before nuzzling up to her Master’s side.

“I love you,” Ushiwakamaru said softly, kissing Ritsuka over and over.  “You were splendid as always, my lord.”


	30. [hassan of serenity/ritsuka]

After so many deaths, the Hassan of Serenity became fearful of herself.  Of her hands, and her breath.  Of her blood and saliva.  Everything that she touched died.  Not a natural death, but one that was long and miserable.  She would watch their organs fail and their skin blister.  All the while, they did not suspect her for anything.  They requested her touch, craved for it.  Sought her embrace in the throws of their death – not at all knowing that she was killing them with their passion and desire.

Her Master insisted.  The touch of Serenity’s hand against her face.  It hurt – deep inside.  Ritsuka was not a person who deserved to be killed.  Was not a person she wanted to seduce to her death.  Inevitably, Serenity felt, her skin and love would kill Fujimaru Ritsuka.  But, in the face of that threat, her Master did not mind.  Taking her hand ever so gently, and nuzzling against her palm.  It was the first time for many things.  Someone knowing fully of her situation and desiring her touch.  Someone accepting her without dying.

But Serenity was still – fearful.  Of herself more than anything.  Knowing there was someone she could touch was a scary thing because it made her want to.  The warmth of someone’s skin, she had felt it before but never like this.  Never knowing that she could do so without consequence.  Ritsuka touched her face, and her neck.  Her shoulders and arms.  Her belly and thighs.  Serenity could almost cry in joy, feeling a part of her soul being filled.  It was so dangerous.  She always warned.  For she existed to kill.  She was beautiful to kill.  Her flesh and blood and soul were a poison that would kill.

Ritsuka chose to kiss her, and Serenity felt like the world around her broke.  Her entire existence had been to use this, to exploit it.  There was purity in this action, and Ritsuka did not fear Serenity’s tongue and spit.  She should, Serenity repeated so many times.  Be afraid of me, she repeated so many times, but Ritsuka was insistent.  Brave.  Foolish.  The type of hero in tales that girls whispered about.  It made her heart burst and swell.  She would die for this Ritsuka a hundred times and never feel like she repaid the debt.

“Master, are you not afraid?” Serenity asked the same question so many times, but it always surprised her.  Ritsuka pressed kisses on the inside of Serenity’s thigh, nuzzling her nose into the firm muscle.  “This is how I – many times…”  Her breath was taken, Ritsuka’s fingers drifted closer to Serenity’s center.

“Shh,” Ritsuka’s fingers traced her lips, and Serenity whimpered.  As much as fear filled her, an undeniable desire bubbled forth.  “You won’t hurt me.”

The confidence that she displayed was refreshing, even if Serenity didn’t fully believe it.  Out of respect for that, and perhaps out of her own selfishness, she didn’t stop her.  She was wet.  Wetter than she had ever been before.  Lying with targets and victims, her body had never responded strongly.  The wet noises that came from between her legs were the lewdest she had ever heard.  “Master,” Serenity cried, and she reached out.

She had never wanted to touch so much.  Ritsuka’s serious face that desired the Hassan of Serenity – she cupped both of her cheeks.  Fearlessly, her Master continued, stimulating her in ways that Serenity never thought possible.  It was never so apparent except in that moment of Ritsuka’s bravery and confidence that Serenity’s heart ached.  That every part of her was fully her Master’s, from her flesh to her soul to her heart.

“See,” Ritsuka smiled, feeling Serenity tremble under her touch.  “You won’t hurt me.”


	31. [nero/ritsuka/mash]

“So, Master, how about it?  I find some lovely Servants and we bond beautifully,” Nero was a unique existence that was able to make requesting an orgy almost sound poetic.  She had been bored, she said, and transferring mana in this manner was easy, she said.  And there’s a lot of good looking Servants that probably wouldn’t mind.

Thinking that was totally impossible, Ritsuka made the stipulation that she didn’t want any men.  Something that Nero mildly argued, but gave up after one attempt.  Women are great, she said.  I don’t blame you!  Who would’ve thought that Nero would actually make this possible?  Not Ritsuka, otherwise she wouldn’t have said anything.

She opened the door to her room, and Nero sat dejectedly on her bed.  There wasn’t a group with her, really, but Mash was there and made a big effort not to look Ritsuka in the eyes.  A toy box filled with an unspeakable amount of sexual objects sat at Nero’s ankles, meaning simply, Mash was the only one who bit.  That seemed kind of sad, despite how surprising Mash showed up at all was.

“A-a small amount is better,” Nero exclaimed, her face red.  “That way we can enjoy you more thoroughly, Master.”

Ritsuka blinked.  “Enjoy me?”  She pointed to herself.  She must have missed that part when Nero was describing the beauty of a massive orgy.  “If it’s both of you on me, wouldn’t it be more of a gangba –” Surprisingly, Mash was the one to interrupt her, her expression far more intense than there was any right to be.

“Senpai!  Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you!” Oh, she was actually pretty excited.  It would be a shame to disappoint her, so Ritsuka exhaled and put her trust into – god forbid – Nero’s hands.

But, well, if it was one thing Nero Claudius knew, it was raunchy sex.  Squeezed between the emperor and Mash, Ritsuka’s body was pinched and bitten while Nero rubbed and rutted her hand along Ritsuka’s pussy.  Only when Ritsuka was gasping and shivering, did Nero slide her fingers inside her.  And to her surprise, Mash’s fingers began somewhere else.

Ritsuka shivered, not having the capacity to speak as Mash teased her ass open.  Combined with Nero hitting her in just the right places, the sensation of having Mash’s finger press through the rings of muscle was euphoric.  She gave a voiceless cry and felt her knees buckle beneath her.  However, both Nero and Mash had a good hold on her, leaving her fully in their control.

“You were right,” Mash said slowly, carefully, beginning to draw and push her finger out of Ritsuka’s ass.  “It looks like Senpai does like having this hole filled too.”

In stark contrast to Mash’s precise, gentle movements, Nero’s fingers were almost violent.  Her palm clapping against Ritsuka’s clit with each pump.  “Umu!” Despite how vigorous she was moving, Nero wasn’t the slightest bit breathless.  “It is a great gift of mine to know, by a glance, a persons sexual proclivities.”

Only Nero would have such a pointless ability.  Ritsuka would not be surprised if it was actually part of her parameters.  With a squeeze of lubricant, Mash widened Ritsuka further, adding a second finger into her.  Electricity raced up her spine.  The new sensation was distracting enough that she didn’t even notice Nero pull out until only Mash supported Ritsuka’s body.

“Now, Master,” Nero began, pouring lube from an unnecessarily high decanter onto the bulbous head of her strapon.  Casting aside the bottle, she worked the fluid along the length.  “I have a whole night in store for you, are you ready?”

Ritsuka gulped, watching Nero begin to slide the tip along her slit.  It was going to be a long night.


	32. [ereshkigal/ritsuka]

“You idiot!”

Upon their return to Chaldea, Ritsuka had definitely incurred the wrath of Lancer, Ereshkigal.  Not for any particular reason, really, as far as Ritsuka was concerned, but that she had acted as a responsible Master.  So, well, there was a reason.  It was that Ritsuka put herself in dangerous situations without a care.  In their questing that time, she had gotten the flat of an enemy blow, trying to safely give out her orders.

Tears fell freely from the blonde’s eyes, and she dragged Ritsuka to the infirmary.  “Stupid, idiot.  Dumbass,” her anger and misery was only matched by the unbearable pain in Ritsuka’s side.

It turned out to be something fairly fixable.  A few bruised ribs and a single hairline crack.  Ritsuka would be bedridden for awhile, and questing would have to be put on hold until her body was back up to par.  In that time, she was kept company by most of her chatty Servants, knowing that there was no escaping them.  But once a day, Ereshkigal poked her head in the room, and scowled.  She’d sit beside Ritsuka, as the last person in the night, and glare.  Rarely, she said anything, and when she did, it was mostly annoyed muttering.

So, when she had gotten the clean bill of health, she was surprised to see the goddess at her door before she had the chance to leave.  “I need to talk to you,” Ereshkigal snapped pushing Ritsuka back inside the room, shutting the door behind them.  “I can’t believe how stupid you are.  I heard from the other Servants that this is something you do?  Get hurt like that?”

Her charge moved Ritsuka all the way to her bed, where she collapsed.  Hands up, the Master sought to find an appropriate answer, “well, I need to be useful too…”

Ereshkigal shifted onto the bed, straddling Ritsuka’s hips, and grasped the collar of her uniform.  “You are useful, giving orders.”  She grumbled.  Without warning, she roughly kissed her and urged her tongue into Ritsuka’s mouth.  This – had taken an unexpected turn.  Ritsuka’s hands remained floating in the air, unsure of where to settle.

Breaking free, the goddess scowled, red faced.  “You see how I feel?  I should just drag you to the underworld,” Her hand sank between Ritsuka’s legs, finding a very wet not-so-surprise.  Ereshkigal’s blush deepened.  “So you feel the same way, right?”  Her voice was low, and her fingers knew exactly how to touch.

Ritsuka whimpered and her eyes rolled back.  “Yes,” she said softly, bobbing her hips to Ereshkigal’s fingers.  Breathless, Ritsuka tried to move herself to give the blonde better access, but she was held short.

Ereshkigal smiled, “so you’ll come to the underworld with me then?”


	33. [jeanne/marie]

“Have you fallen for me, Jeanne d’Arc?”  Marie asked.  Regardless of the number of times they embraced like this, Marie would ask.  She liked to hear it, pressing hot kisses along Jeanne’s exposed breasts.  Marie is always aggressive, acting as if she very rightly owns everything.

Jeanne pleasantly sighs, feeling Marie’s teeth just barely brush against her.  Make no mistake, regardless of the number of times they embraced like this – Marie Antoinette intended to “worship” her.  “Yes,” Jeanne replied, breathless, as Marie licks and suckles her.  She watched her with heated eyes – Marie taking both of Jeanne’s ample tits in her hands and squeezing both nipples in her mouth.  Shivers of pleasure sank below Jeanne’s stomach, and she had to reach out to touch Marie’s pale back to ground herself.

With a resounding pop, Marie released her gently licking the overstimulated tips.  “Ehehe, I’m so lucky,” Marie purred, nibbling Jeanne’s breast as she sank lower on her body.  The bites turned to kisses as she grew ever closer to Jeanne’s hips, ending up with Marie nuzzling her cheek against them.  “That means,” Marie pressed kisses against Jeanne’s skin, “you’ll give your heart and body to me then.”

Not needing affirmation by now, Marie descended between Jeanne’s legs.  Entranced by the sweet heady scent of Jeanne’s arousal, Marie patiently kissed her dampening lips from the tip of her slit to her hot entrance.  Coaxingly, Jeanne moaned and wriggled her hips against Marie’s movements.  Being teased wasn’t fair, after all, and Marie gladly answered her with the flat of her tongue.

The sweet and salty taste of sex was one of life’s greatest pleasures, and Marie was a purveyor of worldly pleasures.  Among all of the ladies that she had ever eaten, Marie found Jeanne to have the best flavor.  Testing her with large, brush sweeping motions, she was answered with Jeanne’s thighs tightly pressing her in.  Had it been anyone else, Marie would’ve punished them.  But such neediness was quite beautiful on her saint.

“Ah, God,” A swear that only ever crossed Jeanne’s lips during sex.  Never would His name leave her in vain in any other situation.  It was an innocent thing to cry, but ever so dirty from Jeanne’s lips.  Marie would not let her cry such a lovely thing with no reward, and increased her pace considerably – the tip of her tongue swirling in just the right way around her clit.

“Oh,” Jeanne whimpered, her hands gently touching Marie’s head as she twisted her body.  “God, please.”

As if that were permission, Marie closed her mouth on Jeanne’s folds, sucking them lightly.  The twitching in her saint’s body grew more restless.  Marie’s mouth opened, and her tongue darted against Jeanne’s swollen clit.  Violently, Jeanne shuddered and Marie contentedly watched her struggle.  So close to coming, but not quite there.

Wrapping her arm around Jeanne’s hip, she pressed a single finger right above her hot button and pulled at the skin as she licked.  It was a slow descent, watching Jeanne’s body tremble and twitch as she teased her forward.  Then finally, she felt the tremor – the body shaking orgasm that only Marie could produce.  Her second Noble Phantasm, if you will.

Marie kissed her, from her modest pussy to her beautiful lips, cuddling Jeanne down from her high.


	34. [medea/ritsuka]

“Ah, welcome back, Master.”  Medea looked up from her book, sitting on the far side of Ritsuka’s bed. Ritsuka dried her hair, having just taken a shower, and approached the bed only to have her movement halted.  Medea brought her hand up, and pointed to something on the bed.  “I got you a present, Master.”

Ah – Ritsuka looked down.  Although it wasn’t unusual for Medea to be in her room to read, or do whatever, it often had a second meaning.  Since she had gotten involved with the witch, she had found Medea had a number of interests.  Reading, of course, but model building and carefully assembling ships in a bottle.  Those were her interests that she could share with anyone, if she wanted to.  Then there was this.  Ritsuka picked up the outfit, and examined it.

“Pink,” Ritsuka said, unfolding the lingerie.  In her peripheries, she could see Medea change positions and intently watch Ritsuka’s expression.  Aside from the painstakingly intricate lace, the whole thing was soft and sheer, a small babydoll set that left little to the imagination.  Medea’s taste was always impeccable.  “You want me to put this on now, don’t you?”

Medea enjoyed buying clothes and dressing Ritsuka up.  It ranged from dresses to suits and, of course, lingerie.  Just like every other time, Medea rose from the bed and undressed Ritsuka.  Shedding each piece of her pajamas and piling them on the floor, Medea descended to her knees, spreading the waist band of the panties open so that Ritsuka could step into them and pulled them up.  Ritsuka wondered if this was because of her affinity with dolls, but she didn’t terribly mind, lifting her arms to have the top slipped on.

“Hm, hm,” Medea hummed with satisfaction, her hands rubbing Ritsuka’s exposed arms.  “Very beautiful, as always.” Slowly, she undressed herself, beneath her clothes was a near matching set.  A different color, of course, but enough to make Ritsuka noticed how the lace and sheer drew the eyes to all the right places.  Without a doubt, this was going to turn into one of those times.

Sinking to her knees, Medea drew her tongue against the inside of Ritsuka’s thigh.  Anytime Medea produced lingerie, she was in the mood.  “I’m cute for you?” Ritsuka asked, running her fingers through Medea’s blue hair as the witch brought her lips to the fabric of the panties.  Ritsuka took a sharp breath – how she could be so talented with her mouth through underwear, Ritsuka could never understand.

With a giggle, Medea drew the material through Ritsuka’s slit, licking the shape.  “Aren’t you always?” She asked between suckling.  She grew wetter by the second, seeing the witch tease and toy with her.  Medea’s finger twisted, grinding lace right against Ritsuka’s clit, and grinned as her Master shook in response.

Medea liked to have Ritsuka leave everything on.  Leaned over the edge of the bed, Ritsuka spread her legs out and presented her ass.  The hem of the babydoll slid up her back, exposing her skin, but that didn’t seem to bother the witch.  Medea just pulled the center strip of Ritsuka’s panties to the side, enjoying the sight of her swollen pussy beneath.  She lingered only for a moment, slowly dragging her fingers from Ritsuka’s clit to her hole.

Ritsuka moaned, grasping at the sheets.  Medea loved this – fucking Ritsuka’s wet cunt while she was all dolled up for her.  Inside her, the witches fingers scissored, driving cries of pleasure out from Ritsuka’s lips.  No doubt she would be like this all night, in every pose imaginable, just to satisfy Medea’s lust.

“You’ll come plenty of times for me, right?” Medea asked, smoothing the fabric on Ritsuka’s back.  Ritsuka whimpered – luckily, these moods were the best.


	35. [ushiwakamaru/brynhildr]

A professional warrior with a lifetime of experience – Ushiwakamaru knew when she was being watched. She knew who it was. She knew how long it had been going on. She knew, in general, how far apart they were at all times. She knew, intimately, the length of their weapon and kept in mind many ways to counter. Not that she’d ever need them. After a week, Ushiwakamaru realized what was going on.

It wasn’t like it was the first time this happened. When she was alive, she was a bit of a lady killer too. Her youthful good looks attracted the attention of men and women throughout the country. Her martial prowess, and stunning lineage didn’t hurt. Women, and men, would often stay ten to twenty paces behind her waiting for the chance to strike conversation. Except, this woman wasn’t waiting for that. Ushiwaka glanced over her shoulder, and Lancer was perfectly hidden. Well, out of sight anyway. Ushiwaka could point her out if she needed to.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Ushiwakamaru asked, putting her palm against the back of her neck. Brynhildr peered out from her hiding spot cautiously. “It’s been two weeks.”

Ushiwaka would be lying if she said Brynhildr wasn’t attractive. The definition of a western beauty, she’d say. Tall, slender, with pale hair and skin. Her expression was clear but melancholy. The slightly younger than Ushiwaka was now Ushiwaka would’ve made no time to try and bed her. But she was more mature now, a little bit. Ushiwakamaru blushed a little bit, drawing her eyes away from the line of exposed skin on Brynhildr’s thighs.

“I’ve been found out,” Brynhildr sighed, and Ushiwaka didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was never a secret. “I apologize. It’s just…you – remind me,” Brynhildr bit on her own words. It stirred some surprise in Ushiwaka. She was, vaguely, aware of the situation. Some men had attributes that likened them to her ill fated lover, and that acted as a trigger.

Frowning, Ushiwaka lowered her hand from her neck. She had thought, though, that those that could be classified as her ‘beloved’ were all men. “Me?” She asked. She had a mans name, of course, and enjoyed a mans life. But many Servants in Chaldea had the same situation. Brynhildr’s eyes focused on the ground, and her cheeks were red to her ears. “I’m flattered! You know, you’re beautiful too.” The notorious womanizer began to arise, and Ushiwaka laughed to herself. “You know, if you’re interested –”

“I’ll kill you,” Brynhildr cut her off.

Without missing a beat, Ushiwaka simply replied, “oh, I doubt it.”

Lancer’s fingers tore at the sheets, her body flush and sweaty. As soon as the door shut behind them, Ushiwakamaru struck first. Tearing off Brynhildr’s armor and clothing piece by piece, the samurai dove straight for her body. Her small hands took hold of Brynhildr’s small shapely breasts, eagerly urging shy whimpers of pleasure from the valkyrie. Separating one hand to remove the top half of her armor, Ushiwaka shimmied down.

“Are you – ?” It was Brynhildr’s turn to be cut short, Ushiwaka licked her slit. Her words lost form and became a breathy moan. Powerfully, Ushiwaka’s tongue twisted and curled in Brynhildr’s folds, occasionally rising up to flick her clit. Lancer’s fingers actually tore the sheets, her body wriggling against Ushiwaka’s advances. “If-if you – you’ll…” Brynhildr stuttered, trying to find her focus.

Heedless, Ushiwaka sat up, pulling Brynhildr’s hips with her so that her legs rested on her shoulders. Brynhildr sucked in a breath in surprise, feeling her hips hoisted up. “Show me,” Ushiwakamaru urged, burying her face into Brynhildr’s cunt. The new rush of blood made Lancer whine and come almost instantly.

Sighing and panting, coming down from her high, Brynhildr felt her body let down then the weight on the bed shift. Ushiwaka dropped her weight on top of her. Brynhildr blinked, smelling the scent of her sex mingled with Ushiwaka’s and said nothing but faintly, she smiled.


	36. [mash/ritsuka]

Ritsuka smiled, tilting her head to the side.  “Here’s my problem.  I had plans to go questing today, yet I’m here stuck dealing with you.”

Mash whimpered, weakly struggling against the restraints.  Having been robbed of her clothes, she had her hands cuffed above her head while her ankles were restrained and legs spread.  Her lavender eyes shone, and she couldn’t even resist giving Ritsuka a wide dopey grin.  No surprise, seeing as Ritsuka had already begun punishing her.  “Sorry, senpai,” she purred trying to rock her hips as Ritsuka brushed her fingers against the metal end of the plug buried deep in her ass.  “Please be as mean to me as you want.”

Of course – she didn’t need Mash’s permission to do that.  Her fingers sank against the base, twisting the plug inside her.  Mash whined in excitement.  “I don’t think you understand how annoying this is for me,” Ritsuka hissed, pulling her hand back only far enough to connect her palm to Mash’s cunt.  Hearing Mash’s yelp made Ritsuka grin.  “I have a lot of work to do, you know.  Saving the future?”

She drifted forward, grasping Mash’s cheeks.  “I’m shorry, shenpai,” she slurred, clearly and totally unapologetic.  Ritsuka’s grin twisted and she let go to slap Mash’s face.  Hard enough to leave a glowing red mark, but gentle enough to prevent any bruising.  Ritsuka opened the door in the nightstand, shuffling and pulling out a number of items seemingly at random.  Finally, she found the item she was looking for.

“I’m tired of hearing you,” Ritsuka said, presenting the ball gag to Mash’s lips.  Obediently, she opened her mouth and took it, biting into the bit as Ritsuka fastened it.  “I’m going to vent my frustrations on you.  Luckily, though, endurance is your strong suit, right?”  A muffled whine was her response.  With her Shielder silenced and bound, Ritsuka could do what she wanted.

Starting with her perfect pink nipples, Ritsuka could torture them with clamps.  Watch Mash’s body tremble and seize as she added each little weight to the chains, pulling back on them when she was quiet for too long.  She twisted them, enjoying the sight of the gooseflesh that began to prickle up Mash’s bare skin.  Mash gave out a muffled whine, the first line of drool slipping down her chin.

Ritsuka glared, and her hand drifted downwards.  “You’re still going to insist on being noisy?” She asked, pinching Mash’s already stiffened clit.  Her body twisted, straining against her binds.  “Maybe it’s because you’re not full enough yet.  Is that it?” Ritsuka ran her fingers through Mash’s slit.  “You’re plenty wet, so I’m just going to put something in.”

True to her word, Ritsuka already had the toy in hand.  It was a fan favorite, of course.  A rugged looking thing with nubby spines that wriggled in the right way when turned on.  Not too terribly large, but – Ritsuka slowly slipped the head of the dildo in.  Combined with the toy plugged in her ass, it was sure to have an effect.  The first inch alone left Mash’s eyes rolling, and fairly quickly, she was properly silenced.

With a little twist, the head began to move.  Her breathing increased, but she managed to remain obediently quiet.  Ritsuka rested her hand on the end hanging out of Mash and slowly began to pump.  “About time,” Ritsuka clicked her tongue, thrusting the toy with her full strength.  “Now – let’s see if you can please me.”


	37. [mordred/artoria]

The roar of the twin swords left the world feeling deaf as they faded. The earth was cracked, cleaved, and scorched. The scent of fire and burning mingled with the sharp iron scent of blood. The tip of Clarent dragged against the blasted earth, faintly replacing the silence with a metallic growl. Closer, closer – the knight of rebellion closed in on the king of knights. Even after all this time, and all the things they experienced, there was so much anger.

Clarent was a sword meant to kill her, and Artoria knew that the only reason she was alive was that she had Excalibur. Her armor was sundered, and clothing torn. For a brief moment, her shoulder had become detached from her body, but that was the first thing fixed. Her scabbard was as hot as flames, actively repairing her wounds. But it was not quick enough to stop her from having pain. Blood had entered her lungs, and she had not yet regained the ability to use her sword arm.

Mordred, bathed in her own blood, was not much better. Her thick armor was shattered, but the cuts on her body were far more shallow. Blistered from the heat of the holy sword, the burns surrounding the lacerations were far more threatening than the cuts. Unlike Artoria, she was not healing. Her eyes were maddened, and furious. Unsatisfied that her attack had only driven Artoria to the earth and not outright killed her. Her foot rose and smashed against the king’s open wound.

Artoria cried out, shrinking back beneath the heel of her son. Unbidden, Avalon attempted to stabilize Artoria’s condition. The magic that slowly knit her flesh together spread wider, acting as an anesthetic to alleviate the pain. The grind of Mordred’s heel lost its edge, but she still could not feel her sword arm. Worse yet – Artoria knew – was the side effect of such magics. Mordred withdrew her blood smeared foot and the only pain Artoria felt in her entire body was an aching between her legs.

“Ah, shit, I forgot about that thing,” Mordred grumbled, kneeling down to Artoria’s body and touching the scabbard. Artoria’s body shook, trying to defend it, and it made Mordred hesitate. She burst out laughing, “look, is that the best resistance you can show me? Pathetic.” Mordred instead took Artoria by the forehead and smashed her head against the rock. It should’ve been more painful, but Artoria grunted – the abuse only stimulating the anesthetic to spread hotter.

As Mordred took her hand back, Artoria resisted a whimper. By now, she was long gone. Her body hyperstimulated from blood loss and an aphrodisiac. Even if she was going to be hit, she weakly longed for physical contact. Her logical mind hated it, and hoped that Mordred would not see that weakness. “Still a child,” she gasped, dragging her working arm across the ground in search for Excalibur, “can’t make a kill. This is why you couldn’t be king.”

She hadn’t finished the last word before she felt Mordred’s hands close on her throat. She spared nothing, using her full strength to attempt to crush Artoria’s windpipe. “Shut up!” Mordred snarled, positioning her body over Artoria. “I can kill you if I want to.” The king clawed at her sons hands, her face and body flush. It wasn’t the fear of death that made her struggle, but rather the fear of herself. A nasaly moan slipped from her tightened throat despite her best efforts.

She felt humiliated as Mordred’s grasp eased. The knight above her was shocked. “Did you just – ” Before she could finish, Artoria glanced away. Not to be ignored, Mordred grabbed her hair and drew her attention back. “Hah! You want to be fucked, don’t you?” The hateful pride that crossed Mordred’s face was palpable.

Finding her throat still sore, Artoria coughed, “don’t get ahead of yourself.” Her words were ignored, Mordred ripping the front of her dress open, exposing her bruised trembling thighs. The building wetness had smeared all over the inside of her thighs. Her words lost all meaning. Mordred snorted, and she pressed her fingers against the outside of Artoria’s panties.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you how a king fucks,” Mordred grinned.


	38. [artoria alter/mordred]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note: it's incest

The woman with the gold eyes looked and sounded like her father, but it was clear immediately that she was not. Mordred yelped, having her arm twisted behind her back as Artoria Alter pushed her down the narrow hallway. She should’ve fought back, honestly. She was strong enough to kill her father, so an Alter wouldn’t stand a chance, but the chilly glare made Mordred hesitate. Once the door was shut behind them, Alter released her.

“B-bastard,” Mordred rubbed her arm. The spot where Alter had grasped her would undoubtedly bruise. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

In a flash of light, the armor on Alter’s body disappeared leaving the silky black dress beneath. She tilted her head to the side, and somehow managed to glare down at Mordred despite their similar heights. Her hand shot out, grasping Mordred’s cheeks. “Your father,” Alter answered dryly, not even bothering to look away as she caught Mordred’s fist in her palm. Mordred slipped away, her sword forming in hand. Alter clicked her tongue. “You still have a bad temper. Since ‘I’ had no sense to do so,” she took Mordred’s sword and wrested it aside. “I shall give you the guidance you’ve been needing.”

Her body went hot, and Mordred materialized her armor fully. Whatever that altered Artoria was planning, she was sure she didn’t want it. She bared her teeth, pointing her sword. “What the hell did you say? Guidance?” Her shoulders squared as Alter advanced, her expression plain as if she were bored. “Answer me, damn it.”

Alter sighed, grasping Mordred by her cuirass and shoving her against the bed. “Guidance. You’re far too rowdy.” Irritably, Artoria pressed her palm against Mordred’s back, burying her face into the bedding. Into the sheets, Mordred snarled, trying to pull backwards but the leverage was just not in her favor. Now in full control Alter wasted no time in stripping Mordred’s armor then pulling her bottoms to her knees. “Now – I’m going to do this. You’re going to count it out.”

Mordred writhed. “Why the fuck would I do – hh!” Her response was interrupted by a harsh smack. Stars clouded her vision. This “Alter” wasn’t going even the slightest bit easy on her. The full strength of a Saber class Servant unleashed on her ass again, and Mordred lost her breath. She glanced over her shoulder, Alter’s expression remained unchanged.

“If you won’t count, it’ll never end. You have twenty.”

Color rushed to Mordred’s cheeks, and a quiet part of herself gave up. When Alter’s hand came down on her, the rush surged through her body. “O-one,” she whimpered, her legs shaking. That seemed to please Alter, as she cupped the stinging cheek and rubbed. It didn’t last long before her hand left and returned with a slap. Before she knew it, tears had begun to form in her eyes and – Alter’s hand slid along Mordred’s mound. The knight shot straight up.

Alter stared, appearing as though she was on the verge of disinterest. “So, these are the kinds of things you’re into?” She asked, rubbing Mordred’s juices between her fingers. She smirked, showing an undisguised smugness. “I’m not opposed. Do you want to call me ‘Father’ during it or perhaps…”

She didn’t even need to finish, “…daddy…” Mordred mumbled in frustration. Alter laughed mockingly, sliding her fingers beneath the damp fabric and stirring Mordred’s folds. The reaction was instant, and Mordred tensed, sighing a atonal moan. “D-daddy…”

“Hm,” If Alter was aroused by it all, she didn’t show it. Her finger worked its way inside Mordred, not bothering to be gentle. “Be on your best behavior.”


End file.
